Swan Song
by whyyesitscar
Summary: Completely AU. After a chance encounter on the beach with a mysterious blond woman, Emily needs to know more. If everyone told you to stay away, would you? What if everything wasn't as it seemed? Emily Fitch wouldn't.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: There will come a time when I have nothing to say about _Skins_. This is not that time. Also, this is so far removed from what I normally do, which is why I'm the most excited/nervous about it. It's like the most AU my brain works when it comes to our lovely characters. I got inspired by a poem and a song, and I printed them out and _tore_. _them_. _apart_. I would tell you what they are, but that might give things away, as there is quite a bit of mystery surrounding this story. And if there isn't, then I've fucked up. But if you want to be a spoilsport, let me just say that this story is appropriately named. Please, please, please let me know what you think of this little fic because it's not my comfort zone at all. That being said, I really hope you enjoy it!

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The afternoon wasn't a particularly sunny one. It was getting on toward fall, and Emily liked to pretend she could see the leaves changing right before her eyes. But it was only early September, and summer was still dancing behind the trees. Not today, though. Today was drab and grey, a bit chilly as the brisk breeze blew Emily's hair into a whirl. She sat on the beach and basked in the sounds of waves slowly lapping at the shore, licking the sand by her toes like a kitten determined to drink all the milk in the bowl. It was freezing, but she soaked it in.

She had gotten off the plane from London…seven hours and twenty seven minutes ago, actually; Emily had landed at JFK, grabbed her one massive duffel bag, and rented the first car they gave her. She'd driven it until it ran out of gas, which wasn't too far; Emily guessed that said something about renting a car cheap—you got what you paid for. She'd ended up in some small town in Massachusetts, something to do with a fish. Cape Halibut? Cape Trout? She couldn't remember. It didn't matter anyway; she didn't know how long she'd stay there.

Emily Fitch was running away. Or at least that's how Katie and Sam would see it. Probably anyone in her family, actually. But not Emily. She wasn't running away from anything—she was running _to_ something, chasing it. She didn't know what that something was, and she wouldn't know until she caught it.

"Odd time to be on the beach."

Emily turned her head to find the source of the voice; her eyes landed on a pale blonde standing to her left.

"Why, because it's Tuesday?"

"Is it Tuesday? I can never keep the days straight anymore." The woman's voice had a strange twang to it, like it was a mix of every accent in the world, with something unique added in as well, a peculiarity that Emily couldn't place.

"So then why is it so odd?"

The woman turned to look at Emily. Her eyes were blue-grey; if Emily screwed her vision out of focus, the woman's eyes and the sea began to merge. Her hair was the palest blond; even without the sun it seemed to shimmer a glistening silver.

"Just out of season, I guess," she said. "Why are you here?"

Emily hesitated before responding—it was really a very personal question that required a very personal answer, much more personal than "I'm running away." (Which was wrong in the first place).

"My girlfriend broke up with me," she offered.

The woman locked eyes with her and stared unwaveringly. She had a small smile on her face, like she knew something Emily didn't. When she finally blinked, Emily thought she caught a flash of red; she was about to ask about it when the woman spoke.

"That's not why you're here," she said confidently.

Emily smirked. "Oh, really?" she asked. "So why am I here then?" Instead of answering, the woman started to walk away. "Why are _you_ here?" Emily called out.

"I thought I'd have a swim," the woman called back. Then she disappeared.

* * *

Emily made her way into town after that; the spell of the beach was broken when the woman faded from her line of sight. She walked down quaint streets and finally settled into a hole-in-the-wall bar and grill named Freddie's. It was half past seven when Emily walked in the door, and the tables were all occupied. She took a seat at the bar instead of waiting; Emily had gotten so used to sharing space that she didn't really mind it anymore.

"What can I get for you, Red?" a deep voice sounded out. Emily looked up to see a man with a cocky grin washing out a beer mug. "I'd tell you what drafts we've got but you don't strike me as a beer lady."

Emily smiled. "Right about that. Vodka gimlet, please."

The man scoffed. "That's an old man's drink, babe." He made it for her anyway.

Emily took a sip and smacked her lips. "So color me nostalgic, then."

He threw back his head and laughed a deep, appreciative laugh that showed off all of his teeth. "Good one."

Emily squinted her eyes and scrutinized him, trying to read his face. "You don't sound like you're from around here."

"Neither do you."

"I'm from Bristol," she said.

"I'm a mutt," he shared. "I've been so many places I can't remember where I started. Keeps life interesting, I guess." He lingered just a little too long on his s's—some might call it serpent-like hissing, but it reminded Emily of the steady rhythm of waves sliding into shore.

"You sound like someone I just met," she said impulsively. "Can I have a menu?"

He put down his mug and handed her a bulky folder. "Who?"

"What?" she muttered absently as she scanned the entrees.

"Who do I sound like?" he clarified.

"Cheeseburger with the works." Emily put down her menu in realization. "You know, I don't even know her name. I just met her on the beach."

"You shouldn't make a habit of talking to strangers," the man said with a smile. "Could be dangerous."

Emily smiled, too. "Well, then let me introduce myself." She held out her hand over the bar counter. "I'm Emily."

He smiled and shook her hand warmly. "I'm Cook."

"Nice to meet you, Cook." She meant it.

He stopped working and rested his elbows on his side of the counter, leaning on them. "So tell me about this mystery woman. Hot? Looking for a good time with the Cookie Monster?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Normally, Emily would have been extremely put off by his type, this self-centered, self-indulgent sort of guy. But Cook succeeded where others had failed—he was genuinely charming. Emily couldn't fault him for that.

Emily smiled. "I'd score with her before you would, _Cookie_, but I don't think that's what she was looking for anyway."

Cook looked surprised only for a second. "Shame, Red. You and me could have had a good time of it." A waiter called to him and Cook disappeared for a second, returning with Emily's dinner; she could smell the food before she saw it, and she was not disappointed when Cook rounded the corner carrying the biggest burger Emily had ever seen. Emily intended to eat every last inch of it.

"So," Cook said as he set the plate down, "this potentially hot, totally off-limits girl…what's she like?"

Emily moaned in satisfaction as she took a bite of her cheeseburger. "I don't know," she said with some effort (her mouth was filled to bursting with delicious, char-broiled cow meat). "Distant, I guess? But in an intriguing way. And totally gorgeous. Can I switch to a white Russian?" Cook nodded and worked on preparing her drink. "She had these freaky eyes, like freaky entrancing, you know? Blue one minute, grey the next, and I swear I caught a flash of red in there, if you can believe it. And her hair, it was really shiny, like a—"

"Silvery-blond," Cook finished for her. He slid her drink near her plate.

"Yeah, exactly." Emily cocked her head, momentarily thrown off track. "How did you know?"

"You gotta stay away from her, Emily," Cook said soberly. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Might be best if you avoided that beach altogether."

Emily laughed in surprise. "What? That's crazy." Cook's expression never wavered. "You're actually serious?" she blurted. "Why?"

"Less you know, Emilio, the better."

Emily stared suspiciously at Cook for another moment, but she didn't say anything else; there was no sense in pushing any further. Emily didn't know anything about the situation; for all she knew, this striking, totally unavoidable woman was a psychotic axe-murderer who kept the toenails of her victims in a shoebox under her mattress. Still, that didn't mean she was going to take Cook's advice; he didn't know her, either.

"So, how long you in town?" Cook steered the conversation back into safe waters, and just like that, they settled into a comfortable back-and-forth.

"Don't know," Emily said. "I only got here today. I don't have a plan, really."

Cook smiled conspiratorially. "How 'bout a place to stay?"

* * *

Cook managed to coerce her into camping out on his couch for at least a few days. There were many benefits (at least, ones that he saw): one, it was a free, warm place to stay; two, there was never a dull moment with him; three, as he said, "If you like mysterious girls, Red, you'll love my roommate." Emily couldn't deny a warm bed and a hint of intrigue, especially if they were housed in, supposedly, the greatest apartment in Provincetown.

Cook had corrected her misidentification of the town; it wasn't Cape Trout or anything like that. Cape Cod, which was what she'd been thinking of, was actually the name of the island—the town was Provincetown. Still, he said, everyone just called it all "The Cape," or "P-Town." Emily thought that was unbelievably stupid.

She stayed at the bar until the restaurant closed; Cook kept feeding her cups of clam chowder and waffle fries and other warm dishes that resonated all the way from her stomach to fingers, heating the tips and making them tingle. Emily didn't know how she managed to keep it all down.

At eleven, she and Cook made their way to his apartment. They joked as they walked in the cool night air that seemed warmer on a full stomach. Emily learned that Cook was the same age as she was, that he didn't discriminate when it came to liquor or women, and that, most likely, he was a nicer guy than one would think. (Cook didn't tell her that last one, but she figured it out anyway).

"Woah." Emily stopped in her tracks and stared at the building in front of her. It was an imposing structure; though it was only two stories, it cut quite an impressive figure. There was ivy creeping along its front, swallowing windows that didn't match with each other and a door that looked like it belonged in a medieval dungeon. It even had one of those square eye latches that you see in movies like _Lord of the Rings_, not real life. If anyone else had lived there, Emily would have dismissed it as tacky and ugly. Cook, however, seemed not only to fit in with the décor, but to embrace it as well.

Cook grinned. "Great, isn't it? Used to be a warehouse 'til they abandoned it. Now, it's mine and Eff's lair of sin."

"Eff?" Emily prompted.

"Effy, my roommate," Cook explained. "Nickname, obviously; no one's called her by her real name for years. You gonna stand there forever or are you gonna come in?" He clicked open the heavy lock and swung the door forward, revealing darkness that seemed to swallow his arm. Emily followed him inside and had to stifle a gasp when he flipped on the lights.

She hadn't ever seen ceilings that high before, nor had she ever seen a living space that managed to effectively integrate rusty piping into its atmosphere. The first floor was virtually an open space with the exception of a room in the back right corner; after a cursory glance, Emily deduced that was the bathroom. The hallways seemed endless, expanding farther and farther until Emily was sure she couldn't really see where they stopped. (When she got up in the morning, she'd realize that they were actually quite average-sized, but in that moment, Emily's awe blew every room to fantastical proportions). The stairs were free-standing and led up to a landing with a door on either side; those were the only rooms Emily couldn't see inside. She guessed they were the bedrooms.

Cook spread his arms wide proudly. "Welcome to my humble abode," he announced.

"Cook, this place is amazing!" Emily finally exhaled. She swept her eyes around the rest of the downstairs—the kitchen was immaculate and modern; appliances shone from underneath cabinets and pots and pans dangled above a free-standing island. It was the only hint of modernity and industry other than the pipes; every piece of furniture looked to be an antique or at least had vintage air to it. The couch, for example, didn't look like it had been made any time after 1973. She eyed it skeptically.

Cook followed her gaze. "I know it looks dubious, but it's really quite comfortable. Do you want a tour of the place?"

She put on her most apologetic expression. "Actually, I've got some major jet lag, and I think you might have put me in a food coma."

He chuckled. "Say no more, Red. I'll just get you some sheets and you can sack out on our lovely sofa." He jogged lightly up the stairs and Emily dropped her duffel bag noisily in front of the couch. Her gaze never lingered in one place for too long; there was too much to take in.

"Is your roommate here?" she asked as she heard Cook thundering back down the stairs.

He unfolded the sheets and began affixing them to the cushions. "Nope, but even when she is, it's like she's not. Bit of a loner, that one." He threw a pillow against one arm of the couch. "Don't worry about her; she'll turn up when she means to. You just go to sleep for now." He patted one of the cushions and Emily eagerly flopped herself down onto the sofa.

"Thanks, Cook," she said, closing her eyes and laying an arm across her forehead.

"Don't mention it." His voice sounded distant, and before Emily could tell if that was because she was so tired or because he was walking away, she fell asleep curled into the back of the couch.

Cook was right. It was comfortable.

* * *

_Emily was caught in a bubble, suspended in a sea of greens and purples. Flashes of silver, almost like liquid chrome, danced across her line of sight. Her hair was fanned out so that every strand was stretched to its fullest, creating a mane of fire. Moving her eyes was a chore; each successive blink felt more labored than the one before it, like her eyelids were pressed under two-ton boulders. Though her surroundings were stimulating, Emily was surprisingly stagnant. There was only one thought reverberating in her mind, pulsing like the distant promise of action: "My girlfriend broke up with me."_

_The mystery woman's smile materialized in front of her like a reverse Cheshire cat. "That's not why you're here," it repeated, over and over again drilling that thought into Emily's brain._

"_I told you to stay away, Red." Cook spoke from behind her; his voice echoed as if from the bottom of a well. _

"_Cook, I didn't…she found me," Emily drawled._

_The woman's free-floating mouth curled into a smirk. "I've felt her, James," it said. "She's a magnet now."_

_Cook blew past Emily and almost knocked her over on his way to the mouth. If the woman had been there in a full-body state, he would have had her by the throat. As it was, he didn't, and he had to resign himself to punching just the mouth. More than anything else happening at the current moment, Emily found this odd. _

_Suddenly, the mouth disappeared, and Cook transformed his punch into an insignificant gesture, sliding his arm to his temple in one fluid movement. He started speaking, but his words faded in and out like a radio station caught between frequencies._

"_She can't…has to stop…not fair; Emily is…make her go away."_

_Emily rested her eyes, feeling as if she were drifting in and out of existence. When she opened her eyes again, there was a pair of ice-blue irises floating less than a finger's width away from her face._

_Emily screamed.

* * *

_"You're okay. No need to flip your shit."

Emily woke up and promptly fell off the couch. She peeked out from under the sheet that had fallen over her forehead. "Effy, right?" she huffed.

The woman sitting on the arm of the sofa was small, a waif-like figure swimming under a loosely-fitting top. "That's me," she said quietly.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked. She tried to be friendly, but she was too tired to be genuine.

"Dreaming," Effy said.

Emily furrowed her brows. "You're not asleep. You haven't been asleep." The sagging bags under her eyes were proof of that.

Effy smirked smugly. "Didn't say it was my dream."

Emily pulled back and sat up straighter. "Those were _your_ eyes I saw," she said, the words spilling out of her mouth the moment they came to her mind. "How…how did you get in my head?"

"I'm a mysterious girl, me. Remember?" Emily didn't think that Effy's choice of words was a coincidence; she and Cook seemed to be connected on a level that Emily could only dream of.

"What do you know about her?" Emily asked.

"A lot," Effy answered.

"Where does she work?"

"She doesn't."

"Where does she live?"

"It changes a lot."

"What's her name?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Eff!" Emily huffed in exasperation.

"Oh, have we moved on to nicknames, now?"

Emily laid back down on the couch and turned on her side. "I'm going back to bed," she said as she drew the blanket across her shoulders.

She felt the pressure on the cushions ease as Effy got up. "Cook told you to stay away from her," she stated plainly.

"Yes," Emily mumbled into her pillow. "Are you going to as well?"

"Do you plan on listening to Cook?"

"No," Emily replied immediately.

She heard Effy's footsteps still. "Her name's Naomi," she said softly.

Naomi. So now she had a name.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: You guys. I am so excited about this story. You don't even know. It has a two-page outline, poetry analyses, supplemental stories, and drawings. I have hit Fanfic Singularity. Also, I have managed to reference both _Friends_ and _Questionable Content_ in one conversation within this chapter. I am pretty pleased with myself. Also also, be prepared because the plan for this story (if I actually stick to it, which I don't always do) is to include a fair share of angst. And when I say fair share, I mean butt load. And when I say butt load, I mean you're riding the Angst Express and I am your conductor. Because let's be real, life isn't built on fluff. Man up, you pansies.**

**(Also, please enjoy this chapter).

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**

Emily woke up early the next morning; though the couch was wonderful and comfortable, it was also in the middle of a room with very large windows. Absent of any blinds, the sun streamed in and woke her with the birds. She threw the blanket over her head and tried to snuggle as deeply into the cushions as possible, but it was a persistent sun, and she could see it through her eyelids.

She huffed and threw the covers to the floor as she swung her feet off the side, wincing when they came in contact with the cold wood floor.

"It gets warmer, you know."

Emily started violently. "Jesus Christ, Effy! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Sitting," Effy smirked. "It's six forty five," she said preemptively, cutting Emily off before she had a chance to do anything more than open her mouth.

"You're strange, you know that?"

Effy rummaged around in Emily's duffel bag and threw some clothes at her. "You should get dressed. Cook will be up soon and he'll want to include you."

"In what?" Emily blurted, nonplussed. "Include me in what, Eff?"

Effy simply smiled and walked away.

Emily sighed exasperatedly and flopped back down on the couch. She pressed her hands to her eyes, figuring that if she pushed them hard enough, maybe the weirdness of her current situation would go along with it. Maybe Effy would squeeze out of her ears and slither down to the ground, never to return again unless Emily asked her first.

Then again, maybe Emily would just get up off the couch and put her pants on.

* * *

"Alright, Emilio? How'd you sleep?" Cook came walking in the room and sat down next to her on the couch, handing her a hot cup of coffee.

Emily took a sip and hummed appreciatively. "I slept well, thanks. It was the waking up part that was weird."

Cook chuckled. "Yeah, she does that sometimes. You get used to it."

Emily cocked her head. "How'd you know I was talking about Effy?"

He smiled. "Well, you weren't talking about me, now, were you? Ah, here's the lady of the hour!"

Effy walked in and silently sat herself on an armchair with the grace of a cat. "Morning, Cook. I see you've cleaned up nicely."

Cook grinned mischievously. "Well, I didn't have too much of a wild night last night, Eff. Not like some of us in present company."

Effy raised an eyebrow challengingly. "I don't know, Cook. I'm not the one who came home with a stray."

He laughed his wide-mouthed laugh. "Good one, Eff." Emily slurped her coffee, wincing as it burned its way down her throat. "Your turn, Red," Cook prompted.

"My turn for what?"

"Well, normally Eff and I get together in the mornings and talk about the shenanigans we got up to the previous night. Now, seeing as you were present for my shenanigans, you've gotta add something else. Tell us about yourself or some shit."

"Cook, that's totally lame," Emily scoffed, not really wanting to divulge any personal information at the current moment. "Besides, Effy hasn't gone yet, either."

Cook shook his head. "Nice try, Emily. But Effs always goes last."

Emily rolled her eyes, half-believing that Cook was making everything up on the spot just to mess with her. She didn't want to tell Cook or Effy anything about her; they were nice people, but she had never been one for Truth or Dare games—that was Katie's territory. Still, a small part of Emily recognized that they weren't exactly drawing it out of her. She had no doubt that if she pressed hard enough, they would back off. Emily had to repress a thrill of surprise—this was how people made friends. Meeting a person and not only wanting to get to know them, but wanting to learn when it was okay to push them. Emily was surprised because she hadn't made friends for herself in years—she'd adopted Katie's friends, and inevitably any girl she met at a bar or a club had immediately progressed to the girlfriend level. As Emily looked at Cook and Effy, who were both waiting expectantly, she could tell that neither of them thought of her as anything more than a potential friend. So instead of waiting for them to cave, she caved.

"I'm twenty four," she began. "Just broke up with my girlfriend, been broken up with my family for years. Except for my sister, Katie. She's my twin—total opposite of me, total bitch, and basically the only thing keeping me alive at the moment. Or at least, she was. Then I fucked off to London and then America, and, well, here I am."

There was a tense moment as Cook and Effy absorbed her tiny rant; Effy was looking at her with a glinting triumphant gaze. Cook had been smiling when she started speaking, but somewhere in between family and Katie his face had fallen into a somber stare.

However, he was the first one to break the spell. After they had all bathed in the melancholy for an appropriate amount of time, Cook burst out laughing.

"Fuck, Emily, I wasn't asking for your life story. Just wanted to know a little bit about you."

"That _was_ a little bit," Emily grumbled irritably, which only set Cook off laughing again. "What about you, Effy?" Emily asked, eager to steer the attention away from her.

"The moon was bright last night," Effy said softly.

Cook nodded seriously. "Yeah, it was."

Emily's eyes danced between the two, wondering if she could understand more if she looked at their faces. A few moments of observation concluded that the answer was a resounding 'no.' _Fuck, these people are so weird_, she thought.

"Look who's talking," Effy said with a sly smile.

"But I didn't…" Emily protested weakly.

Effy rose from her chair. "Let's take a walk."

* * *

They did end up taking a walk for a really long time; Effy paraded Emily up and down streets, not saying anything but letting her get acclimated to the town. Emily was impressed—she'd been to London a few times and had always admired its history. Provincetown had nothing on London—America was, after all, a 200-year-old baby—but it was still rich. It was alive. There was a steady flow of people along its streets, and the buildings were brightly colored; something about them screamed nautical. Coffee houses and quaint local shops (many of them, Emily noticed, selling drug paraphernalia) were scattered along widely-set streets that accommodated a plethora of bikers and pedestrians. Emily felt as if she were at a street festival, only this was a festival that never stopped.

She and Effy wandered into a deli around one o'clock, and the man behind the counter nodded to Effy. She and Emily sat down—still, no sound escaped Effy's lips—and after a few minutes two sandwiches appeared on their table. Emily didn't know what hers was, but it looked amazing and tasted just as good, which she told the man behind the counter. He smiled and thanked her and inquired as to where she was from, why she was there. Did she have a boyfriend? Didn't her family miss her? Had she ever had lobster? Oh, well, then she had to get herself on over to the Lobster Pot and tell them that Big Rick sent her, and if Alice didn't treat her right, Emily should remind her about that time that he fished her Joey out of the ice. Emily laughed, said she'd be sure to do that, and she meant it.

Effy clanked her plate on the table, and suddenly it was time to go.

Emily followed Effy to a bookstore next; she noticed that Effy seemed to be walking her away from the beach—anything to keep her away from Naomi. Effy might not have agreed with Cook's methods, but she apparently seemed to agree with him on principle. Emily wanted to be annoyed, but she was distracted by the rows upon rows of books beckoning her.

"Afternoon, Jay," Effy called out to no one in particular.

A man with a mane of curly hair popped out from behind a tall shelf. "Hello, Effy. Haven't seen you for a while." His eyes finally wandered over to Emily. "Oh! Hello!"

"Hi," Emily smiled.

He held out his hand for her to take. "My name is JJ," he said. "Welcome to my bookstore."

Emily shook his hand—it was warm and soft, not like any other guys' hands she'd held before. "Nice to meet you, JJ. I'm Emily. You've got a lovely shop," she said sincerely. Emily wanted to bury herself in the shelves, build an alcove and never leave.

"Yes, well, I think so," he agreed. "Unfortunately, business is touch and go. More on the go end of things right now, I'm afraid."

"Emily needs a job," Effy said out of the blue. Both Emily and JJ whipped their heads around to stare at her.

"What?"

"What?"

"Emily will be here for a while," Effy explained.

"You don't know that, Effy," Emily protested. Effy threw her a look and Emily quailed.

Oh. Right.

"Right, anyway. You should hire her, JJ. Obviously she's a librophile," she said with a hint of a sneer.

JJ turned his attention back to Emily. "You tell people your favorite author is…?"

"Jane Austen."

"Actual favorite author?"

"Margaret Atwood."

"There was no possibility of…"

"…taking a walk that day."

"Meaning of life?"

"42."

JJ looked approvingly at Emily. "Oh, joyous day! You passed the test! You're hired."

Emily furrowed her brow, not sure if she should be amused or confused. "Um, is there a reason you're speaking in iambic pentameter?"

JJ smiled. "Yes, actually. That was the real last test. I only hire people who get it. Or, at least I do from here on out, as I've been the only one working here up until now, which has probably contributed to the lack of success and profits. But the point is, you have a job and I've started a tradition, so it's really a win-win as far as I'm concerned—"

"JJ."

JJ winced. "Right, locked on. Sorry, Effs. Anyway, Emily, can you start tomorrow? We close in a few hours so it's pretty pointless to start today."

Emily nodded eagerly. "Of course I can. Thanks a lot." She smiled warmly. "Do you mind if I look around, though? Er, you know, so I can get used to the shop and everything?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Emily barely waited for him to finish speaking before she darted off down endless pathways lined with equally endless rows of books. They were all the best books: books that were tattered and frayed (or loved, as Emily liked to put it), books that smelled like ink and musty old paper, books that had notes in the margins from previous owners. Books that had character. She walked among them, trailing her fingers lightly over the spines that stuck out, feeling the bumps and dips they created. She wondered what it meant when a book stuck out just enough to be over the edge of the shelf: did it have more to say than its thinner counterparts? Or did the tiny ones pack a better punch, telling passersby that the thick tomes were too afraid to say things and mean them? Emily didn't really care; she appreciated them all equally.

She stopped when she realized that she had run out of books to touch. She looked around and found herself in the back of the store, which was apparently a lot bigger on the inside than it looked from the street. The books back here weren't even on shelves, which Emily vowed to fix when she started work the next day. However, she couldn't blame JJ for stashing them on the floor—they were big books, thick ones with pages the size of a small table. Except for one. Amidst the dusty volumes was a thin, worn book. It was more like a pamphlet, really; Emily wagered that there weren't more than one hundred pages between its ragged covers. _A History of the World,_ Emily read. She scoffed; how could a history of the world fit into such a tiny book? Still, she couldn't help being intrigued. She sat down and opened it up.

_In the times when the universe was young—_

"You ready to go then?" Emily had barely started to read when Effy found her. "We've got to meet Cook soon."

"Can it wait a few minutes? I want to read some of this." Emily held up her book.

Effy gave her an exasperated look. "You're going to be working here, Emily. Find it tomorrow."

"Someone might buy it," Emily protested dumbly.

Effy craned her neck to see the title. "I doubt it," she said after reading it. Emily wasn't sure, but it seemed like Effy's face was the tiniest shade paler than it had been a few moments earlier. There seemed to be a miniscule twinkle of fear quivering in her brow, but it was so faint that Emily couldn't be sure she was even seeing anything. "Put that back and let's go find Cook."

Instead, Emily slipped the book into her bag and followed Effy confidently out the door.

* * *

"Okay, Red, you've got to continue your story," Cook prompted before he slurped his noodles down noisily.

Emily swallowed her bite of lobster. "Oh, come on, Cook. Give me time to settle in before I have to tell you my sordid affairs."

Cook waggled his eyebrows. "Sordid, huh? Well now you really can't leave me hanging."

Emily groaned. "Alright, alright. But you have to ask me things. I don't know where to start."

"Said you've got a twin, right? She gay, too?"

Emily couldn't help laughing. "You want to know everything about me, and _that's_ the first thing you ask?" She shook her head in disbelief. "No, Katie isn't gay. Far from it, actually."

"Nice," Cook said appreciatively. "You've gotta get her down here sometime then."

Emily sipped her wine and shook her head. "Don't think she'd come here, Cook. We're not exactly the best of friends."

"I thought you said she was the only thing keeping you alive," Effy chimed in.

Emily looked at her, appraising her once again, and, once again, failing to come to any sort of conclusion. "Yeah, I did. But that doesn't mean we're what you'd call friendly. My mother hates me, my dad is too much of a coward to stand up to her, and Katie is still on their good side. So sometimes we butt heads."

"Why does your mom hate you?" Effy asked.

"Why do you care?" Emily shot back. "I'm sorry," she immediately apologized. "I don't mean to be rude. I'm just not used to people wanting to know about me."

"Get used to it," Effy replied with a small smile.

Emily chuckled into her forkful of food. "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, my mum can't stand that I'm gay. Refused to acknowledge any of my girlfriends as anything more than just friends, even when I got out of college. It's been eight years since I came out and she hasn't budged a bit. I guess it's what broke up me and Sam, in a roundabout sort of way."

"So you ran away," Effy said flatly.

"I didn't run away!" Emily snapped. "I just…I got fed up with it all, you know? Sam and I were living together, had been doing for almost a year, and it was great and comfortable and lovely…and so fucking _boring_. I just couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't really living. I'd come home and she'd have made a frozen pizza or gotten take-out, and we'd watch some stupid program, and maybe my mum would call and ask me if I wanted to come over for dinner. I'd say no, because her dinners always included a really obvious set up with some complete tosser, and if I mentioned Sam at all, she'd say, 'Oh, we were hoping for a bit of family time, Emsy.' As if some random guy is family and my girlfriend of two years isn't."

Neither Effy nor Cook were smiling anymore. "Did you talk to Sam about this?" Effy asked.

"No," Emily admitted sheepishly.

"And when did you get so fed up?"

Emily squirmed under Effy's intense stare. "Two days ago," she muttered.

Effy smirked. "Seems like you're pretty good at running to me."

"Hey, c'mon," Cook said to try and ease the tension, "at least she ran here, right? I'd say you're the most interesting person we've had stay on our couch, wouldn't you, Eff?"

Effy didn't say anything.

"Well, this has been lovely, girls. But I'm afraid I've got to go man the bar, make sure our lovely town isn't overrun with drunks." Cook got up and pushed his chair in (albeit a little noisily) and left, giving both Effy and Emily kisses on the head. It surprised Emily; Cook was so good at wrapping himself up in a cocky veneer that it was easy to forget that he was a nice guy. It made Emily feel guiltier for being short with him.

"Nice of him to leave us with the bill," Emily grumbled.

"We've got a tab. We never pay when we eat here," Effy said. "You know, you're not going to last here very long if you don't like hearing the truth."

"So what? I can leave. I've got nothing tying me here."

Effy smiled, and Emily knew she'd been figured out. It unnerved her unlike anything else that she'd experienced. "You can't leave," Effy said. "Just the truth," she shrugged.

Emily got up and left, too. She'd had enough truth for one day.

* * *

She thought about going back to Cook's place, but then she remembered that she didn't have a key, and going back and asking Effy would be too embarrassing. So instead, she walked the streets, not really noticing—or caring—where her feet were going. Still, she wasn't surprised when she realized they'd guided her to the beach once again.

She sat down, enjoying the rush of cold sand as it came in contact with her warm jeans. She stared out at the sea, wondering just what Katie was doing this very moment at home. There was really only an ocean between them, little more than a plane-trip away, but the gap seemed larger. It seemed like she and Katie were worlds apart. She and Sam, for that matter, too. Emily just hadn't really ever found someone who was like her; someone who smelled books and wanted to hug flowers, someone who would rather have steak for a snack than chips, someone who had no problem with being cold because then it meant that she could curl up in a blanket. Emily had felt, all her life, that she just thought differently from everyone else, and no one had given her the chance to share how she saw the world. It made for an incredibly lonely life.

Though she was wrapped in her thoughts, Emily was aware that she was not alone on the beach anymore. Someone was sitting next to her, far enough away so that they weren't touching, but close enough so it was clear that they were supposed to talk.

"I hoped I'd find you here," Emily said, still looking straight ahead.

"I'm always here," Naomi replied.

Emily turned her head to look at Naomi; her heart clenched when she saw Naomi's cobalt eyes. She'd met this woman barely twenty four hours ago and already she was aching to know everything about her, find out exactly what made those sea-blue eyes darken to jet black.

"Your name's Naomi," she said.

Naomi smiled. "So it is. And you're Emily."

"So I am. How did you know that?"

"I know a lot of things. You still haven't answered my question, you know."

Emily frowned in confusion. "Which question?"

"Why are you here?"

Emily thought about it—_really_ thought about it. She couldn't say that it was because she was running away (because she still firmly believed that she wasn't), but she couldn't say that it was all about Sam either. Emily was the one in Cape Cod, wasn't she? Not Sam. Sam had nothing to do with her right now. So Emily said the one thing she did know for sure.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Naomi smiled, and fire danced in her eyes. "Getting there," she teased. "But not quite."

"You know, you remind me of someone," Emily said, frustrated.

Naomi's smile widened. "True," she said. "Thanks."

Emily rolled her eyes. "That wasn't a compliment."

"Yes, it was." Naomi shifted in the sand, and suddenly she was closer to Emily, and Emily could feel the connection radiating from every part of Naomi's body; it leapt from her arms to Emily's chest, skipped between their kneecaps and made her toes tingle. Emily had to struggle to stay calm; she suddenly found that she was very out of breath and her heart was racing.

"You should go," Naomi said suddenly. She sounded agitated, the kind of tone you take when you know something really bad is about to happen.

"What?"

Naomi stood up in a flash. "I'm really sorry, Emily," she said, almost slurring her words. "But you really need to go. You need to just…I can't—go away, please."

Emily couldn't hide the hurt. "Naomi, I don't—"

"Don't forget your bag," Naomi said, thrusting it into Emily's arms. Their fingers touched, and Emily felt a bolt of electricity run through her bones up to her brain. She felt dizzy and light-headed, and it was all she could do not to faint. "Shit," Naomi exhaled, the word leaving her mouth in a shaky breath. She grabbed Emily's thumb with her whole hand, gripping it in a vice. Emily almost passed out from the sensations coursing through her, fueling her. Naomi took a deep breath and pressed her body closer to Emily's.

"Naomi—"

But that broke the spell, and Naomi pulled away. "Fuck," she sighed. She looked at Emily, really looked at her, and her gaze was dark and lustful and possessive, and it stole Emily's breath. At that moment, Emily lost. She lost the battle between good sense and desire, between Cook and Naomi, between (it seemed) happiness and heartbreak. At that moment, she claimed Naomi for her own. It was the only thing that made watching Naomi walk away bearable at all.

It was the only thing that made it okay for her to walk away, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm gonna go right ahead and tell you that I don't really remember writing this chapter. If you follow me on Twitter, you'd know that I was drunk-tweeting about mariachi mustaches and the Scottish version of Rocky Balboa. This was also during the time that I was writing this chapter. So...yeah. Also I saved this on my computer as "GREATEST FANFIC EVAR!" (caps included), which I have since fixed. Anyway, I've read this over and it doesn't seem to be too bad? Tell me if it is and I'll change it. Otherwise, enjoy!

* * *

**

"Listen to this, Eff." Emily cleared her throat and began to read from the book she had pocketed. It was a slow day at the bookstore. "'In the times when the universe was young, when man was little more than an idea, when the sun's rays warmed fewer entities (but warmed them more completely); in these times there were two forces called Cruenterrex and Parakalus. Some—'"

"Stop," Effy ordered. Emily jerked her head up to look at Effy, and she was surprised to see that Effy was considerably agitated. Effy never got agitated. It was the one thing she had managed to learn about the girl after a week of living with her.

Emily had settled in to life in Provincetown very quickly. It was her kind of place; the people were friendly but not too nosy; the food was wonderful (unlike any English cuisine), and Emily finally felt happy, felt at peace. She was living with two of the strangest people she'd ever met, and she was okay with that. Life was beautiful.

The bookstore especially had been a major part of the change. It was abysmally organized; for all of JJ's neuroses, order didn't seem to be one of them. He had arranged the shelves according to some system only he understood; it had taken Emily two full days to decipher everything and rearrange the books. She had them sectioned off by genre—fantasy, romance, science fiction, history, everything you could think of—and the ones she couldn't categorize she arranged by color. Emily might not have been the loudest lesbian on the East Coast, but she did love the occasional rainbow. Besides, it was the section that got the most frequent comments, and those were all good ones anyway. JJ had remarked that business had already gone up, and he was considering transforming some of the unused space into a coffee shop. Emily thought it was a bit cliché, but JJ had simply said that she hadn't tasted his pumpkin spice latte. Emily had laughed to herself, because what kind of guy took pride in how he made coffee? JJ was turning out to be a wonderful ball of incongruities. He loved the penny, but he would round down if anyone's total came out to a number that wasn't a multiple of five; he always picked books out of shelves with his left hand, but did everything else with his right; he didn't always know how to say things, but somehow they ended up being right.

He was quickly becoming Emily's best friend, and not just in Provincetown. Emily didn't know if she'd ever found someone with whom she connected so fully, except for Katie, and that hadn't even been a connection she chose. Emily treasured her hours in the bookstore, and she was often sad to leave it. Someone was always there she could talk to—something she had been yearning for her whole life.

At the moment, however, JJ had gone on his lunch break and Effy had decided to keep her company. Emily had been reading passages from books that she thought were particularly quirky, and it had all been going well until she drew _A History of the World_ from beneath the counter. She remembered Effy's first reaction, but she was so intrigued by the book itself that she went against all her common sense and pulled it out.

"What's got you so worked up about this book, Eff?" Emily asked. "It's not even real."

"I don't like mythology," Effy said monotonously. Emily caught a flicker of panic behind her eyes, one that Effy immediately quelled.

"Oh, come on, Eff. It's just stories."

Effy was saved by the jingling of the bell above the door; JJ had returned from lunch.

"Hello, girls!" he said brightly. "Any customers?"

"Not a one," Emily said.

He took his place behind the counter and Emily went to do inventory like she had for the past four days. "Hope you weren't too bored," he called out.

"Not at all," Emily heard Effy drawl. The bell jangled once again as she left and Emily made a beeline for the drawer under the counter.

"Sorry, Jay," she said as she reached past him. "Forgot a book. Gotta go reshelve this one."

Instead, she found a deserted corner and curled into the fraying book.

* * *

_In the times when the universe was young, when man was little more than an idea, when the sun's rays warmed fewer entities (but warmed them more completely); in these times there were two forces called Cruenterrex and Parakalus. Some might call them gods, but this is not true. Gods can be forgotten. Gods can be challenged and obliterated and punished. They can be defeated, demoted, and mocked. These beings could not, nor can they ever. They are always here, always watching—always controlling._

_Cruenterrex was the ruler of the land, and Parakalus held dominion over the moon. Together they ran the universe, cycling it through seasons and storms, through blazes and blizzards. They worked together, filling voids when necessary, but also knowing when to create holes. When earthquakes boiled under Cruenterrex's cheek and left garish parting gifts, Parakalus would run a calming pattern over the stain. With the land came the power to establish order, and with the night rose the serenity to maintain it._

_And yet, they were not satisfied._

"_I tire of making mountains and valleys when there is no one to enjoy them," Cruenterrex lamented._

"_There is truth in your words," Parakalus replied. "My light is never as bright as when someone exists to admire it, and I cannot for I am used to its beauty."_

_And so they came together; the Earth swelled up to the moon and the moon fell down to greet the land, smashing into it and burrowing underneath the soil. It rose and fell so quickly within the Earth, filling it up with its engorged form, that very soon it produced a woman. She was not a human but a demigod born to two all-powerful parents. Her name was Epithumiandra, and she was beautiful. From Cruenterrex she took a passionate nature, a tendency to act without thinking; from Parakalus she took the power to heal and provide calming advice. It was a wasted ability, however, as there was no one to advise. Epithumiandra spent her time with Cruenterrex and Parakalus, learning the ways of the world. They taught her how to make canyons and dunes, how to turn the moon on and off—they taught her how to live._

_After some time, Cruenterrex began to grow restless. "I still have no one to worship my beauty," she said. _

"_Great Mother," Epithumiandra replied, "you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."_

"_My daughter, you must do something for me," Cruenterrex said. "As Parakalus and I created you, so too must you create. Create for me subjects, a race of beings to revere me."_

_Epithumiandra set out to accomplish this task, only too happy to bring joy to her beloved mother. She sat on the Earth and molded clay into people, creating smiling mouths and innocent eyes that would be eager to receive Cruenterrex. But the clay did not stay together; rock slides would jostle and destroy it. Earthquakes made it crumble, and earthen limbs were cracked by the blistering sun. Epithumiandra became frustrated as she watched her creations fall apart. She sat down and refused to move for forty days and forty nights. As that time passed, Epithumiandra spent her time wallowing in sorrow. She cried without stopping, and her tears filled basins and ditches. When she finally stopped, she realized that she was sitting at the bottom of a great sea. Epithumiandra made a palace out of the earth, proclaiming the ocean as her kingdom for she was the one who created it. She called it Phulaquus, and she spent her days there creating man out of earth and water._

_Epithumiandra called out to Cruenterrex to speak of her accomplishments, and her mother was very impressed._

"_My daughter," she praised, "you have done beautifully. These humans love me; they are in awe of my majestic hills and mountains."_

"_Mother, I thank you," Epithumiandra replied. "Let me celebrate with you. I am trapped under this ocean; free me and I can join you and talk of your beauty."_

_Cruenterrex did not concede. "No, Epithumiandra, you must stay beneath the sea. I know the power of companions; create some for yourself. Make your kingdom a lavish palace—fill it with plants and animals and people. When you have done that, then you can join me."_

_So Epithumiandra did. She populated her empire with dolphins and starfish, with merpeople and nymphs, with anemones and reefs. It became a beautiful sanctuary, and Epithumiandra was almost sad to leave it. However, she was very excited to see her mother._

_But Cruenterrex would not free her. "I cannot see beneath the waves," she said. "I cannot rule what I cannot see. You must stay beneath the waters to rule the seas. You must be the sovereign of marine life."_

_And Epithumiandra has not come up since.

* * *

_Emily puzzled over what she had just read; it wasn't any myth that she'd encountered before, and Emily considered herself to be somewhat of a mythology buff, at least when it came to Greek and Roman myths. The conventions were all there: an origin story, omnipotent figures, names, lists, and mystical creatures. But they were names she'd never heard before, origins that didn't lead to any modern conclusions. Emily was intrigued in spite of Effy's warnings. She eagerly sought out the next paragraph, but the pages were blank. Emily flipped furiously through the rest of the book, trying to find the words she knew were just there a minute ago. But it was in vain—there was no ink on the pages except for what she had already read.

Emily stormed to the front of the store and waited (impatiently) for JJ to finish up with his customer. The man was a regular, a sixty-something who came in every day to buy a book for his wife. JJ had pulled Emily over the first day of work and told her that his wife died four years prior. After that, Emily had been sure to smile at the man. She never charged him either.

"Do you need something, Emily?"

Emily pushed the book under his face. "Where did you get this book? Who brought it in?"

JJ held the book out and looked at its cover. "I don't remember this one, Em. And believe me, I personally checked every book we got before I put it on the shelf. I don't think I would have sold this one if I had seen it; it's too old. Plus, it's barely 100 pages."

"Well, I sto—_got_ it from the shop when Eff and I stopped in that first day. You must have been intending to sell it."

JJ looked at her curiously. "Where did you find it?"

"In the back of the store with all those giant books."

JJ laughed. "Well, then obviously this isn't my book. Someone must have left it there. I would never have put it with my oversized books; the spine-to-text ratio is off. Plus, ninety seven percent of all oversized books emit a nice, weighty crack when you open them up. This book would barely make a squeak…" JJ continued lambasting Emily's opinion that her book used to be his book. Emily had to stop him when he got to "theoretical typography analysis."

"JJ!" Effy had explained to Emily about JJ's tendency to get 'locked on,' as she put it, and he'd been doing better over the past week. But when he got on a rant like this, there was no stopping him.

JJ visibly cringed. "Sorry."

"Just look in the book, JJ," Emily sighed. "It's weird."

JJ flipped through the book; the look on his face grew more puzzled by the second. "I don't understand," he said slowly. "It shouldn't be like that."

"I know!" Emily exhaled excitedly. "You really don't know who left it here?"

JJ shook his head. "I've never heard of the book at all. It's not even written by anyone."

Emily looked at the front cover; sure enough, there was no author, nor was there one on the inside either.

Emily furrowed her brows even further. "I didn't even notice that," she said to herself. "Can I take this and have a look at it?"

JJ shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. After all, I didn't seem to miss it in the first place when you _took_ it from the shop."

Emily smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

She spent the rest of her shift thinking about what was in the book and why she couldn't see what was written. The desire to know burned within her. When JJ told her she could leave, Emily made a plan to head to the beach. Maybe the water could quell the flame inside her.

* * *

However, Emily never made it that far. She barely made it two blocks before she ran into Cook.

"Evening, Red!" he shouted as he walked toward her. Cook jogged slightly to catch up with her. "Feel like getting a drink?"

Emily smiled. "Cook, it's barely even eight o'clock. Bit too early for me to get trashed."

Cook fell into step beside her. "I'm not talking about getting trashed, Emilio. It's Wednesday, right? Trivia night down at Fred's. Free drinks for every answer you get right. Winner gets to name their prize."

Emily shook her head. "Cook, that _is_ getting trashed. I'd win that, hands down."

Cook nodded curtly. "'Course you would. I'm the barman. I know all the answers."

"If I was going to play, I wouldn't cheat, Cook."

"Okay, so don't cheat." Cook jumped in front of her and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Come on, Red, you've gotta play. This one cocky bastard's won it every year and he makes all the other contestants pay for his drinks. Everyone hates him. You've gotta break him."

"Alright, alright," Emily relented. "But you've gotta give my drinks to other people. I can't show up still drunk at work tomorrow."

"Ah, JJ wouldn't yell at you. He's too desperate for friends."

"Cook!" Emily chided. JJ and Cook seemed to have a mutual dislike of each other, but Emily couldn't figure out why—they both seemed to be nice guys. JJ, especially. Emily couldn't imagine why anyone wouldn't take to JJ, but then again, Emily probably wouldn't have ever imagined that someone like Cook existed anyway.

Cook held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. I won't diss your buddy. But you'll come and play, right? Keep ol' Cookie company?" He flashed her what Emily had come to dub "the patented Cook grin."

"Yes, Cook," she sighed. "I'll come and play your stupid game."

* * *

It turned out to be a lot more challenging than Emily had thought; the questions weren't just collections of brainless sports trivia that got easier as the participants got more intoxicated. There were actual rounds, and Emily had to rack her brain for a few answers. She had immediately found the cocky bastard that Cook had talked about; he was sitting at a table in a crisp, pinstriped business suit, talking pompously to his tablemates about the stock market. Emily hated him even before she heard his smarmy voice ooze out an answer.

He and Emily were locked in a battle of wits; Emily could feel silent hope radiating from every other patron, hope that she would win and their wallets would be saved. Unfortunately, he wasn't as shallow as his attire would suggest. Emily (begrudgingly) found him to be a worthy opponent.

At the moment, they were tied for first place. Every other contestant had dropped out once it became clear that at least two people were taking the contest seriously.

"Okay, we've got one last question to break this tie." Cook, as the bartender, was the emcee. Every time Emily answered a question correctly, he'd winked at her; Emily had given up long ago trying to figure out what they meant, because they clearly weren't winks of accomplishment. Emily had been around Cook long enough to know better.

"It's time for everyone's favorite category: Shit That Nobody Knows!" A cheer went up from the crowd and Cook took his time quieting them. "This is the tie-breaker, the question that determines who wins and who's an asshole." He cleared his throat and pulled out an index card. "During World War Two, there was one casualty from the very first bomb dropped on Berlin by the Allies. Who was it?"

Emily watched her opponent's face fall as Cook read the question, and her heart started to pound confidently in her chest—she knew this one. She waited for a while, pretending that she had to think, before finally pressing her buzzer.

All eyes shifted to her, and Cook was beside himself with excitement. "Emily, if you get this question right, the game is yours and you get to name your prize. So tell me—who was the only casualty?"

Emily grinned. "The only elephant left in the Berlin zoo."

"Correct!" Cook yelled. The roar from the rest of the patrons was deafening, but nothing brought Emily satisfaction like seeing the crestfallen face of her fellow competitor. "Alright, alright, quiet down everyone! Emily, as the winner of this fine competition, you get to name your prize. What'll it be?"

Emily pretended to think it over for a moment. "Well, I think Brent here"—and she gestured to the man in the pinstriped suit—"should pay for everyone's drinks." Applause and cheers erupted even louder than before. "For a week," Emily finished, taking pride in the angry look on Brent's face.

Emily got up from her table and joined Cook at the bar, acknowledging all the men who clapped her on the back in thanks.

"That was brilliant, Red," Cook said as she sat down. "He won't show his face in here for a while."

"Glad I could help."

"You've got a fan club, by the way," he said, pointing to a group of women sitting at the other end of the bar.

"Who are they?" Emily asked.

Cook smiled conspiratorially. "You said I could give away your drinks, right? Well…I did."

Emily scrutinized the group of women. "You gave away my drinks to all the hot women."

"Yeah, man!" Cook laughed. "You've got your work cut out for you, Red."

Emily scoffed, only a little disgusted. "I'm going to the bathroom, Cook. It'd probably be best if they were gone when I get back."

Emily walked toward the restroom without a look back, chuckling to herself as she opened the door.

"He's a card, that Cook, isn't he?"

"Jesus!" Emily turned around to see Naomi lurking by the door. "What are you doing in here?"

"I think the question is, what are _you_ doing in here, when Cook's picked out so many lovely ladies for you?" Naomi smirked.

Emily frowned. "I don't want any of those _lovely ladies_."

"Got your sights set on someone else?" Naomi stared at her challengingly.

Emily stared right back, never breaking contact. "Don't you?"

The arrogance in Naomi's eyes faltered. "You shouldn't be here, Emily."

Emily laughed. "What, here in the bathroom?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, here in America. Go back to London."

"Bristol," Emily corrected.

"Whatever."

"I don't want to leave. You—"

"I know why you don't want to leave, Emily," Naomi interrupted. "I don't wan—I know why you want to stay. But it would make things a whole lot easier if you left."

"Effy said I can't."

"Effy doesn't know everything," Naomi said. Emily would have believed it, too, if Naomi didn't look so worried.

Emily stepped closer to Naomi, and Naomi hung her head, hiding her eyes. "What's got you so afraid, Naomi? I know you can feel it. Don't you want me to stay?"

"Please don't ask me that," Naomi muttered, almost in tears. "There are better people than me, Emily. Please go and find them somewhere else, wherever they are."

Emily stepped away and blinked, and when she finally got the courage to stop looking at the floor, Naomi was gone.

* * *

"Ah, there you are, Emilio! You okay?" Emily sat back down at the bar and started fiddling with a coaster. "Hey, really, Red—are you okay?" Cook's concern was genuine. Emily almost couldn't take it.

"People are fucking weird, Cook, you know that? I just saw Naomi—"

"Hang on, I told you to stay away from her. And how did you get to the beach and back so quickly?"

Emily furrowed her brows. "I wasn't at the beach. I was in the bathroom. You saw me—I was barely in there for five minutes."

"You saw Naomi in the bathroom?" Cook asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Emily answered. "Where else would I see her?"

"Shit, that girl's in a heap of trouble," Cook muttered to himself. For the first time, he wasn't talking about Naomi in an angry tone of voice. Oddly enough, he seemed almost worried. "Listen, Em, I've got to make a phone call. You just stay here, okay?"

Emily nodded, but once Cook was out of sight, she followed him and hid behind a wall.

"Eff? Yeah, it's me. Listen, we've got a problem. Emily just saw Naomi. In the bathroom at Freddie's. No, she wasn't on the beach. I know, I told you we've got a problem. Yeah, but…well I didn't think it was gonna happen this soon! This is bad for both of them, Eff. I know, but—it'll ruin her, Eff, we can't do that! Okay, okay. I'll see you at home."

Cook hung up and Emily ran to the bar, sitting down mere seconds before Cook came back.

"Everything okay?" she asked as coolly as she could.

Cook smiled, and Emily couldn't see any hint of a lie behind his eyes.

"Just peachy."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thought I'd get this up before Thanksgiving. Consider it a preemptive present, because I can't guarantee I'll get the next chapter up before Christmas. To those of you who were wondering, yes, the myth is an original story. I wish I could have adapted an existing one, but unfortunately nothing really seems to fit the Naomily bill. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**

Emily willed the book to show more words, but nothing more came up. She sighed in disappointment; all she wanted was to lose herself in a story, to forget about Cook and Effy and focus instead on the perfect lives of gods and goddesses.

"Emily! Can you help me with this?" JJ called out.

"Coming, Jay," she called back. She followed his voice to the front of the store. Emily had to suppress a grin as she watched him struggle to move some bookcases. "What are you doing, JJ?" she asked, chuckling slightly.

"I'm trying to see how much space we'd have if I put the coffee bar up here," he huffed. "Economically, we'd get a better profit if people could see the coffee shop from the street, particularly in winter. The promise of hot beverages might warm their stomachs and open their wallets."

"Awfully cynical of you, JJ." Emily positioned herself behind a bookcase. "Here, you pull and I'll push." They shoved the bookcase into a corner; the books on the highest shelf wobbled precariously but did not fall.

"Thanks," JJ said, placing his hands on his hips in accomplishment. They both stepped back to survey the area. Emily had to admit that it wasn't hard to envision a few tables and a coffee bar; she could even see a chalkboard with daily and seasonal specials. _Maybe in summer we could switch to smoothies,_ she mused. JJ and his quaint clichés were already rubbing off on her.

"You know, you're going to have to hire someone else to run the coffee bar."

"Yes, well, that's one option," JJ said.

Emily looked at him quizzically. "What's the other one?"

"I could run the coffee part of the store. I am the coffee master, after all," he smiled.

"Yeah, but then who would run the bookshop?"

He looked at her like she was clueless, and for a moment, Emily felt like she was. "You love the books more than I do, Emily," he replied, barely containing an eye-roll. "I think you can handle it yourself."

A stupid grin washed over Emily's face. "Really? JJ, that would be _amazing_!" she gushed.

JJ shrugged nonchalantly. "I've always had more of a business mind, anyway. Besides, the customers love you. As well they should," he added as an afterthought.

Emily blushed, but she had to admit that it was true. She'd already come to know most of the regulars, and she'd discovered that she had an uncanny knack for knowing which books to recommend to first-time customers. More often than not, these customers turned into regulars.

"Well, on that lovely thought, I'm going on my lunch break. Do you want help moving the bookcase back?"

"No, we can leave that for later. It's not in the way. Grab me a sandwich on the way back?"

Emily grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. "Ham and salami on rye?" she asked.

"Do you even have to ask?" JJ joked.

The bell jingled as Emily opened the door. "One day, Jay, you've gotta get out of your comfort zone."

"I will," he called out as she left. "Just not today."

* * *

Emily settled into her panini and cup of tea and pulled _A History of the World_ out of her backpack. She'd obsessed over the book for the past two days, flipping through pages as if each time would be different. It never was—the pages were always blank—but she had to hope that sometime, ink would gleam back at her.

She choked on her tea as she took a sip; it scalded her throat as it went down. Some of it felt like it went into her lungs.

Today, the ink was black and bright, and it formed a story that she had never read before. Emily ignored her sandwich and instead, devoured the words in front of her.

_Epithumiandra grew tired of her palace. It became a prison; the expansive sea was a confining trap. There was never enough room for her to occupy because there was no one with whom she could share it. She had subjects and citizens who lived in her palace, but none dared talk to her, for she was their creator. They worshipped and loved her, and Epithumiandra was lonely. She spent her days in sorrow, wondering what it would be like to escape her palace, to live above the surface among people who did not know her as a god—people who might actually talk to her._

_Epithumiandra grew weary of her perfect life, and one dark night she pleaded to her mother. "Please, beloved mother, let me see the skies. Let me walk on the grass with my beautiful creations. I want to smell air and feel life."_

_Cruenterrex was not moved. "I cannot let you leave, daughter," she said. "However, I can offer you a small favor: I will send a human down to your kingdom so that you may ask him about his life and enjoy his company."_

_The next night, Epithumiandra watched as a small circle of light floated toward the peak of her palace. It grew in size and lost its luster as it neared her, becoming more and more transparent with every inch. It was a bubble when it finally reached her kingdom, and from it emerged a beautiful man—one of Epithumiandra's perfect creations. She did not ask his name; she was too enraptured by his beauty. She took him to her bedroom and claimed him, and in the months that followed she learned of his life above the water. He regaled her with stories of sunsets and flocks of birds, of feathery clouds and lofty trees. Epithumiandra longed to see the endless sky, the expanse of black with glittering flecks of light. _

_Her yearnings were forgotten upon the birth of her son. He was a manic child, always running back and forth, tricking his nurses and parents. When he got angry, he would destroy anything that was in his path, and yet Epithumiandra often saw him tickling the bellies of fish. She named him Bellicatus, and over the years they fought tirelessly. _

_When he had grown to the age of a man, he began to tire of Phulaquus as well. He begged Epithumiandra to let him leave the palace, but she told him that it was impossible. Bellicatus was not pleased._

"_I cannot remain in this prison forever. I grow weary of the sea, of its never-ending blue. I must leave," he raged._

_Bellicatus appealed to his grandmother. "Great Cruenterrex, creator who made the world and my mother, please let me leave Phulaquus. I yearn to feel the air in my lungs, to shield my eyes from the burning sun."_

_Cruenterrex refused Bellicatus as she had Epithumiandra. "You are a creature of the sea," she said. "You must stay there all your days."_

"_But I am not a creature of the sea," Bellicatus insisted. "My father is a human, and so I am connected to your great land, to the magnificent rock and fertile soil. I am a being of two kingdoms, and I must be able to see both."_

_Cruenterrex relented, and Bellicatus was allowed to travel to the surface only when the moon had risen. He spent his hours of the night frolicking about the world, bedding women every night, and every day, he would return to the palace and tell Epithumiandra of his antics. He left out no detail, and Epithumiandra's jealously and yearning to escape returned. Once again, she beseeched her mother to allow her to ascend to the surface, but Cruenterrex was stalwart in her refusal._

_Bellicatus divided his time between the land and the sea, and Epithumiandra seethed at his derisive stories.

* * *

_The words were gone as soon as Emily finished reading "stories." She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as she had to return to the bookstore.

Emily took her time walking back; she couldn't stop thinking about what she'd read, about Epithumiandra and her difficult son. It felt like Emily had been chosen to read this story, but she still didn't know why. It wasn't important, though; Emily didn't really care to know why. She just wanted to know _more_; she wanted the words to stop disappearing. She wanted to know why this was called a history of the world when it clearly wasn't—it was a myth, a fictional origin story. It was all very confusing, and Emily didn't like to be confused.

"Sandwich delivery!" she yelled as she reentered the shop.

"I'm back here!" JJ answered.

Emily made her way to the back of the store, where JJ was rummaging around the oversized books. "What are you doing, JJ?" she asked as she handed him his lunch.

"Well, I _was_ trying to find out more about that book of yours, but I can't seem to find a damn thing."

"Well, you eat your ham sandwich and I'll do some research, how's that?"

"Sounds good," JJ mumbled between bites.

Emily rolled her eyes. "God, chew your food, Jay." She powered up the laptop they kept under the counter and tried simply searching for the book itself—nothing. No author, no background information. It was like the book didn't exist except for when Emily held it in her hands. She tried searching the character's names with similar success; by the time a customer finally strolled in, Emily had read about myths from almost every culture of the world and found nothing useful.

"Afternoon, Em." Effy sauntered into the bookstore quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"Don't you ever do anything, Effy?" Emily asked, only half-joking.

Effy smirked. "Of course I do. Just not today."

Emily chuckled. "Can I get you something?"

"No," Effy said as she walked away. "Just looking."

Emily turned back to her research, thinking of what else she could look up—"creator of the sea," perhaps? No, that just got vague references to Poseidon. Any search relating to Cruenterrex inexplicably returned results about Cruella de Ville; Emily didn't even want to talk about the time she had image search turned on for "Phulaquus."

"Doing research?" Effy's voice was closer to Emily's ear that she would have thought possible.

"Yeah, a bit," Emily answered. "It's a slow day."

"Bellicatus?" Effy read. Her voice was no longer joking; it was cold and hostile. "I thought I told you to stop reading that."

"Hang on, how do you know what that means? I can't find reference to this story _anywhere_. How do you know about it?"

"It's a dangerous story, Emily." Effy held out her hand, palm up. "Give it to me."

Emily scoffed. "What are you, my mother? No way."

"Give it to me," Effy repeated, almost growling. "I'm not joking."

"You joke?"

"Emily!"

"Alright, alright." Emily reluctantly handed the book over, not wanting to fatally offend the person at whose house she currently resided.

Emily watched Effy walk away, strutting arrogantly. _Oh, fuck you, Effy_, she thought petulantly.

Effy turned around, a victorious smirk glinting in her eye. _Harder_, she thought back.

Emily rolled her eyes and got back to work.

* * *

The beach was quiet in the early hours of the morning; the temperature of the sand was controlled by the sun at this time of day more than any other. Right now, it was cool and soothing, hiding from the yellow orb peeking over the horizon. Emily found the violet glow of dawn to be one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

"We've got to stop meeting like this."

Of course, purple dawns had nothing on gorgeous blondes.

Emily rotated to face Naomi. "Why? I quite like the water."

Naomi turned to look at the sea. "Yes, it is calming, isn't it? Of course, it can also be terribly tempestuous."

Emily chuckled. "Sounds like some people I know." She scooted closer to Naomi. "How come you always stay on the beach?"

Naomi sighed. "Most people in town don't like to see too much of me. Besides, like I said, I like the sea."

Emily leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the clouds, watching as they turned from purple to pink, floating through the sky like brilliantly-dyed scarves. The soft glow of the sun was making Emily sleepy, and she lay down, resting her head on her interlocked fingers. Sand spilled onto her side as Naomi copied her position, shifting so that their elbows were barely touching.

"Tell me something about yourself," Emily prompted.

"Like what?" Naomi asked.

"Family?"

"Siblings. You?"

"Same. Talk to them often?"

"You?"

"No."

"Same."

Emily yawned in spite of herself. "It's getting late. Or early, I should say."

Naomi laughed. "I suppose."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Not really. But you can sleep if you want to."

"Fall asleep on the beach? Seems a bit dangerous."

Naomi tugged on Emily's elbow, freeing her hand from behind her head. She intertwined it with her own, bringing it down to rest in the cool sand between them. Emily turned her head to see Naomi looking at her.

"You're safe with me," the blonde whispered. "At least for now. Go to sleep."

Emily squeezed Naomi's hand. She couldn't help smiling as she closed her eyes.

* * *

_Cook's house was grey, dull and dim in the absence of light. He was talking to someone behind Emily, but for the life of her she couldn't turn around._

"_I'm telling you, Aud, we've got to help her."_

"_Don't call me that!" The voice was relatively familiar, but Emily couldn't place it. "Anyway, we don't have to help her. If we don't interfere, everything falls into place and we can get back to normal."_

"_Normal?" Cook scoffed. "You think a life without her is normal?"_

"_No," Aud whispered. "But it's a lot safer."_

_Cook walked right through Emily and brushed past whomever he was talking to. "Right," he said, his voice full of scorn. "And you've always tried to play it safe."

* * *

_Emily woke a few hours later; the sand had warmed from the glow of the sun. It seemed to be crisping under her back. She sat up groggily, finally taking notice that she was alone. Naomi was gone again; disappearing seemed to be her main skill, along with being mysterious.

Emily sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. She stood up and crossed her arms, guarding against the cool morning breeze. She shuffled her feet in the sand, thinking of ways to talk to Naomi without scaring her away. Ideas weren't coming too quickly, as it seemed that even the most mundane conversations set her off.

She kicked a particularly solid block of sand and watched it skip along the beach, coming to rest in front of a patch of sand that was rife with ripples. As she got closer, she realized that the ripples were actually words, which formed an adorable message.

_Emily—_

_I don't always have to stay on the beach. Care to take a walk tomorrow, say around 7:00? You know where to find me._

Emily smiled to herself and scuffed out the message. Maybe Naomi wasn't always as mysterious as she made herself out to be.

* * *

**A/N: I was going to make Emily/Naomi's interaction a little more cryptic, but honestly all this mystery is about to make _my _head explode. Besides, there's enough plot going on with Emily/Effy (or at least, I think so). Also, the next chapter should be sufficiently flufftastic. I figure we all need a break from the immense secrecy I seem to be concocting. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm going to assume that I'm writing this for more than just warriormari and myself, but if I'm not, then here's a little gift to my loyal readership of one. Consider this a preemptive apology for what I've got planned, I guess. Bask in Flufftown because the Angst Express is about to go through Hurtsville. So whoever is reading, enjoy!  


* * *

**

"I need to cut out a little early, Jay. I've got somewhere to be." Emily ran around the bookstore, re-shelving romance novels at the back of the shop. "Besides, it's only for a couple of hours."

JJ put his hands on his hips, trying to appear stern. "And what if I have some pressing engagement? What if _I _need to cut out early?"

Emily pretended to think. "Let's see, Saturday night? That'd be dinner and an old movie with your mum? I know you, Jay; that doesn't even start until 9:30."

JJ squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to acknowledge that he'd been beat. "Yes, well, nevertheless, a little more forewarning would have been nice."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time. But for right now, I'm gonna go get changed." Emily slid past JJ and made her way to the bathroom, shedding her work uniform (which was whatever she decided to show up in) and replacing it with a fresh pair of jeans and a comfortable and slightly revealing sweater. It had been getting steadily chillier with each passing day, but Emily wasn't above showing off a little. Whatever Naomi had planned for tonight might not officially be a date, but that didn't mean Emily couldn't dress like it was one.

She checked her watch and cursed quietly—6:40. It was about a fifteen minute walk to the beach, so she had to get going. She all but ran out of the bathroom, stopping to say a quick goodnight to JJ.

"Thanks for letting me go, Jay. I hope you have a good night." She threw on a light jacket and flashed him a smile.

JJ put down the book he had been looking at and focused on her. "Yes, well, thank you. You look lovely, by the way." He cleared his throat.

Emily blushed. "Thanks, JJ." She checked her watch once more, wanting to leave without being rude. "I'd better go, though. See you tomorrow."

JJ smiled and gave her a tiny wave as she left the shop.

* * *

Emily reached the beach with about eight minutes to spare; the pushy evening breeze had propelled her feet forward. She stood with her arms crossed, keeping a vigilant lookout for Naomi. She appeared a few minutes later, a dot in the distance; her pants rippled against her legs as she walked toward Emily, parallel to the ocean.

"Punctual," Naomi smiled. "I like that."

Emily smiled, too. "So are you, though just barely."

Naomi shrugged. "I don't have much of a walk, so I'm allowed to cut it close."

"Why, where do you live?"

Naomi cocked her head, looking curiously at Emily. "Let's just say I basically grew up on this beach." She began to walk away, indicating for Emily to follow her.

Emily fell into step next to Naomi, enjoying the feeling of being so close. "Still enjoying a bit of secrecy, I see."

"I have lots of secrets," Naomi said, smirking. She winked. "They're just not mine."

* * *

"So, is your plan to just walk around tonight?" Emily teased.

"Why, are you a lightweight?"

"Absolutely not," Emily laughed.

"Well, just in case, there will be a few stops along the way." Naomi grasped Emily's hand and pulled her along the beach, past where the sand meets the grass, past all hints of a city. The sky grew darker and the stars gleamed from the expansive blackness; instead of buildings and garish lights, Emily found herself surrounded by trees and moonlight. It danced across Naomi's face and created shadows that shouldn't have been there. Emily wasn't sure where they were, or how they got there, or how long they'd been walking—but she trusted Naomi implicitly. If she was being honest, there was no way she was going to leave Naomi, or even question her at this point. Emily had a feeling that would have been the rudest thing she could do.

"Oh, Toto, looks like we're not in Kansas anymore," she joked.

Laughter danced in Naomi's eyes. "That's what you think," she countered.

Emily stopped walking and dropped Naomi's hand. "No, really, where in the hell are we?"

Naomi smiled and pulled Emily forward once again. "Almost there, now. Just trust me."

"I do," Emily whispered. She let Naomi guide her and she was surprised when the forests and fields gave way to a quiet town; couples ambled down sidewalks and into local shops that were probably more interesting than their bland exteriors made them out to be. Emily felt herself being dragged into one of them; when her eyes adjusted to the dim, green light, she realized it was a restaurant. She suddenly realized that she was very hungry, and she told Naomi so.

"Well, how fortunate, then," Naomi quipped. She directed Emily to a table at the back of the restaurant, which was more secluded than Emily gave it credit for, considering it was such a tiny establishment to begin with.

"You know, you're still a huge fucking mystery," Emily said as she sat down.

Naomi smiled. "I prefer the term 'intrigue.'"

"So tell me something about you."

Naomi winced playfully. "Hm, not that easy, I'm afraid. I prefer people to infer things about me from what little hints I give them, if they infer anything at all."

"Good thing I consider myself a bit of a detective, then."

"I wouldn't be averse to learning something about you, though." Naomi signaled to a waiter and mumbled something into his ear; he smiled and walked away.

"So ask." Emily twined her hands together and rested her chin on her fingers.

"Your siblings. Tell me about them."

Emily sighed exasperatedly; she smiled, but the sentiment was mostly genuine. "To put it simply, Katie's a bitch and James is a perv." The waiter came back with two glasses of red wine. He set them down on the table and walked off without a word.

Naomi gracefully took a sip of her glass. "But they love you?"

Emily frowned, thrown off by the question. "Well, of course. They're my family."

Naomi shrugged. "So?"

"So family means unconditional love. You might not like them, but you sure as hell love them." Naomi, for the first time, was without a witty retort. "I take it things with your siblings aren't so great?"

Naomi smiled, but Emily could see a hint of pain and fear behind her eyes. "Good inference."

* * *

They chatted all the way through dinner; feasting on tender meats and crunchy vegetables, Emily made inferences left and right. She was pretty sure that one of Naomi's siblings was a sister, and they got along in a different way than she did with her other (genderless at the moment) sibling. Emily wasn't sure yet if that was a good thing or not. She was sure, however, that Naomi didn't have the best of relationships with her mother, and _that_ she didn't figure out through inferring. It wasn't hard to miss when Naomi characterized her as a "psychotic, fascist matriarch."

The conversation shifted somewhere in between dinner and dessert, and then again between dessert and drinks. They were back to talking about Emily, and for once Emily was okay with it because she was a lot less confused about her own life than she was about Naomi's. (Probably).

"So," Naomi started, twirling her straw in her glass, "what do you do when you're not stalking me on the beach?"

"Says the girl who popped up in a random bathroom and scared the wits out of me," Emily teased. "I work over at Of Prose and Pen."

Naomi sat a little straighter in her chair. "You work with JJ?"

"Yeah," Emily said. "Why, do you know him?"

Naomi nodded carefully. "We're…acquainted, yes. He's a nice kid."

Emily scoffed. "Kid? You can't call him a kid. He's our age."

Naomi sipped her drink. "Ah, but you're assuming that I'm twenty four as well."

"Twenty two, actually," Emily joked.

A flash of crimson darted across Naomi's eyes. "Liar," she challenged. "Aren't you going to ask me how I knew how old you were?"

"How did you know how old I am?" Emily parroted.

Naomi smiled. "It's a secret," she said. Then she got up and left Emily to follow her—again.

* * *

Without thinking, Emily grabbed Naomi's hand as they left the restaurant. "Where are you taking me now?" she asked, swinging their hands.

Naomi craned her neck, pretending to think. "Oh, I thought I might get you drunk. Really make this an enjoyable evening."

"If you're talking about a club, then let me just say that's not really my scene."

Naomi looked quizzically at Emily. "A club?"

"Yeah, you know, a place where people get wasted and dance all over each other?" Naomi shook her head. Emily stared at her in disbelief. "You've never been to a club," she said flatly.

"I've never even heard of one," Naomi said. "They sound like silly places."

Emily scoffed. "Well, of course they're silly places! They're meant to be. Did you grow up on Mars or something?" She kneaded Naomi's face, pulling playfully at her cheeks as if looking for evidence that it was a mask. "You're not an alien, are you?"

Naomi swatted her hands away. "Stop, of course I'm not," she chuckled. "I guess I just don't get out much."

"By 'much,' do you mean never?" Emily quipped, earning a retaliatory hip bump from the blonde. "Okay, okay," she conceded. "Where is this place that you intend on getting me drunk?"

Naomi stopped. "Right here." She gestured to a black door with a gold filigree handle. It was beautiful and extremely daunting at the same time. Emily reached forward to open it, but Naomi stopped her. "Don't go in yet. There are a few rules you have to know before you can go in." Emily raised her eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that," Naomi sighed. "I'm being serious. These are for your own good, you know. Okay?" Emily nodded. "Okay. One: let me order for you. Two: do not, under any circumstances, speak to anyone inside. Not the bartender, not the other patrons—no one. Got it?"

"Let you control me, and be antisocial. I think I can handle that. I submit to you, oh, wise one." Emily bowed in mock worship.

"Emily!" Naomi warned.

"Okay, okay. I got it. Let's just go in, yeah?"

Naomi opened the door and motioned for Emily to go in, ducking her head chivalrously. Emily stepped inside a little warily, for she could tell that this was a place not frequented by the general public. Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, she found that the clientele sitting at the bar were…strange, to say the least. A man occupying the stool furthest from the door had an unusually flat nose; the eyes of a woman three seats over were so far apart they were almost on either side of her face. Emily cautiously took a seat as far away from them as she could get.

Naomi joined her, sliding gracefully onto a stool on her left. She tapped the counter twice and got the attention of the bartender. A woman with jet black hair sauntered over and raised her eyebrows, prompting Naomi to speak. But when she did, it wasn't in any language that Emily recognized. It sounded more like hissing, like sharp spits of words. Regardless, the bartender understood and presented Naomi with two tall glasses of a pale pink liquid. Naomi pushed one of them soundlessly over to Emily. Emily eyed it suspiciously.

"Scared?" Naomi taunted.

"No," Emily spat back immediately. "I'm just finding your earlier claim of wanting to get me drunk less of a joke than I thought." Nevertheless, she took a sip. It was warm and sweet as it trailed down her throat, and Emily felt suddenly giddy. She felt like she could conquer the world if only she drank the whole glass. She took another drink, then a third and a fourth, not realizing how greedily she'd been gulping it until Naomi touched her arm to stop her.

"You might want to slow down," Naomi said. "That stuff is pretty potent."

"And delicious," Emily added.

Naomi laughed. "So it is." She glanced at Emily's glass, which was almost empty. "We'll wait to get you another glass."

"Or you could just get me another now, in your freaky snake-spit language." Emily chuckled at her own wit; whatever it was, the drink was hitting her harder than hard liquor usually did. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling, however. Emily felt happier and lighter than she ever had in her life.

Naomi's cheeks flushed slightly—she looked embarrassed. "I really shouldn't. I guess you were fibbing earlier; you certainly seem like a lightweight. I'm sorry if this ruins your night. I really was joking earlier. I didn't intend to get you drunk."

Emily laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "It's not a problem, Naomi. I feel great."

Naomi relaxed and smiled back. "Okay, well, just wait for the morning after."

Emily twirled her straw in the remnants of her drink. "Why did you bring me here?"

Naomi squirmed and finally took a sip out of her glass. "I just thought that since I've been all over your world, you might want to see a bit of mine."

"Why, do you come here a lot?"

Naomi nodded. "Often, not a lot, I guess. It's a comfort."

"It's a little sketchy," Emily all but blurted, eliciting a laugh from Naomi.

"You think that only because you're not familiar with the place. You were intimidated by the door, and look at you now, happily sipping your drink even though you have no idea what it is."

"What is it, by the way?"

Naomi just smiled wider. "Think of it as the closest to ambrosia that you're ever going to get. Otherwise, never mind the name."

"Ah," Emily drawled. "More secrets."

"Just a few, yes."

* * *

As the night wore on, Emily and Naomi stayed at the bar. Strangely-dressed patrons came and went, and still the blonde and redhead remained in their seats. Eventually, Naomi did order Emily another drink, which she devoured just as greedily. She only made a small noise of protest when Naomi capped her off at the third one.

The atmosphere of the bar changed gradually with each passing hour; it got lighter inside and fewer and fewer people remained until Emily and Naomi were the only two left. Naomi checked her watch and Emily followed her again when it was time to go.

They exited the bar to the refreshing morning air—it was just beginning to get light again. Emily didn't feel like she'd been out for close to ten hours, but her watch told her it was almost five in the morning.

Even more surprising was the fact that they left the bar only to be standing across from the entrance to the beach. Emily knew that this was definitely not where they had started, but the night had been so magical that she didn't think to question it.

"Walk me home," she slurred, pressing herself into Naomi's side.

"Like I would do anything else," Naomi responded with a guffaw. She was pretty drunk herself.

They stumbled back to Cook's house and Emily fumbled with the key, finally managing to fit it right-side-up into the lock. She pulled Naomi into the house with her.

"I really should go," Naomi mumbled as they flopped down on the couch.

"At least stay until I fall asleep," Emily whined. She lay down on the couch and curled Naomi's arm around her stomach to prevent escape.

"No, you don't understand," Naomi said into Emily's back. "I really can't stay. I have to go."

Emily sighed and curled deeper into the blonde. "You can go in five minutes. You can't leave me."

Naomi hesitated before surrendering to Emily's will (and the firm grasp she had on her wrist). She relaxed and stretched her feet out, settling herself comfortably so that she and Emily were practically occupying the same space. Emily smiled complacently to herself.

"If I didn't have to leave you, I wouldn't," Naomi whispered. "You make me feel safe."

Then her breathing evened out and Emily drifted into a peaceful sleep. She let her worries ooze out of her as she snuggled into what had to be the world's greatest blanket. Nothing had ever felt as right as being in Naomi's arms did, and Emily couldn't understand why Cook told her to stay away. It was like he was telling her to stay away from happiness, and now that Emily had tasted it, there was no way she could give it up. Effy and Cook could go fuck themselves if they wanted—Emily had everything she needed. She knew, unequivocally, irreversibly, without a second thought, that Naomi was everything she was ever going to need. She felt it in the way Naomi's breath warmed her neck, in the way Naomi's fingers softly yet possessively grasped hers.

Effy and Cook had no idea what they were talking about.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Totally pleased by the reviews for last chapter! I guess a little bit of self-deprecation goes a long way. Is it odd that I was inspired to write this while watching Hallmark movies and the Bears game? Also lovely Twitter conversations. Hopefully it's up to snuff; part of me thinks I've made some of this chapter too obvious. Regardless, enjoy and tell me what you think!

* * *

**

"Get her up, Eff, let's go!"

"I can't, they're all…entangled."

"Well, fuck that! Fucking grab her legs, won't you?"

Emily woke to worried voices whispering furiously over her head. "Cook…?" she mumbled, still not completely awake. "What's going on?"

"Emily, you need to get off the couch," Effy said, sounding softer than Emily had ever heard her. Emily was so thrown off that she could do nothing more than obey Effy's gentle command. She stood up and stared in confusion at Cook and Effy who weren't paying her the slightest bit of attention.

Emily looked down and immediately realized why. Her face paled and her eyes widened—Naomi was in agony on the couch, quivering and twitching every other second. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, and every breath was an exertion, leaving her lips in a painful huff.

"What the fuck?" Emily screeched. "What the fuck is going on? What's wrong with her?"

"Don't speak right now," Cook said, his voice hovering on a yell. He wouldn't be able to contain his rage much longer.

"But—"

"I said shut up!" he yelled.

Cook scooped Naomi up in his arms. She looked like death; her limbs dangled lifelessly. Her skin was jaundiced and Emily panicked every time Naomi took a breath because she feared there wouldn't be another.

Effy placed a placating hand on Emily's arm. "Emily, we'll try to explain. Just stay put for now." She gave Emily a sympathetic look before opening the door for Cook.

"Like fuck I will," Emily said heatedly. She had no intention of abandoning Naomi.

"You're not fucking going anywhere!" Cook roared, stopping Emily in her tracks. He looked truly frightening, all wild eyes and flaring nostrils. "If she dies, this is on _you_," he snarled. He spun back around to the door. Naomi's legs flopped uselessly against his chest.

They left. Emily crumpled.

* * *

Six minutes later, Emily found herself standing on JJ's doorstep, hopping nervously from foot to foot.

JJ opened the door, his hair sticking out in all directions, sleep still in his eyes. "Emily?" he said groggily.

"I think I did something bad, Jay," she replied as she brushed past him without an invitation.

JJ rubbed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Naomi and I went out last night—I know you know who she is because she told me—and then I woke up this morning and she was having a fit or something and it was really scary." The words spilled out of her, eager to find a listening ear and maybe some validation. "Cook has been telling me to stay away from Naomi, but I can't, JJ, I just can't and now it's all gone tits up and I think it's all my fault. Cook is really furious with me and I don't know what I've done…"

"Emily." For once, JJ was the calm one, offering soothing words and tones of voice. "Take a breath; it's okay. Do you want some coffee or something?"

Emily nodded and sank into JJ's couch. "Yeah, thanks." She ran her hands though her hair as JJ disappeared to put on a pot.

The couch sagged when JJ sat next to her. "The thing you have to understand about Cook is he's really protective of his family. I'm sure he doesn't hate you. He just went into psycho-defensive brother mode."

Emily sat up straight. "Wait, what?"

"What?" JJ echoed. "Oh, God, I've fucked this all up, haven't I? I'm not very good at comforting people; I don't have many friends with problems. I just have me and my problems."

"No, JJ, I mean, what did you say about Cook and Naomi? They're siblings?"

"Oh. Yes. Didn't you know?"

"No. I didn't." Emily felt betrayed—Naomi might have been secretive by nature, but this was too much. It was one thing not to talk about your siblings; it was completely different when one of those siblings was Cook. Emily felt like this made all the difference; the fact that Cook and Naomi were family was the missing piece to the puzzle that her life had become. She just wasn't sure exactly where it fit. It was probably one of those stupid fucking sky pieces that looked exactly like all the others.

"Emily? Are you okay?"

Emily turned to JJ to see him gazing at her with sympathetic eyes. "I'm fine," she croaked. "Just fine."

"Okay…" JJ said cautiously. "I can see that you're lying, but I have something that might actually cheer you up."

"Oh yeah?" Emily didn't believe him for a second. "What is it?"

JJ reached behind his couch and pulled out a bag. "This is Effy's," he said triumphantly.

"Okay," Emily shrugged.

"She forgot it in the shop after she took that book from you."

Emily's eyes lit up. "D'you mean…?" she started excitedly.

JJ ruffled in the bag and extracted the small book. "More words appeared last night."

Emily flashed him the biggest grin she could muster and curled up into the corner of the sofa.

* * *

_Realizing that Cruenterrex would never let her travel to the surface, Epithumiandra decided to make a secret effort by herself. One night, when the seas were dark and clouded, she transformed into a fish and swam to land. She swam along river banks, jumping out of the water just to feel the warm rays of the sun on her back. When daylight broke, she kept a vigil for a person, someone to whom she could reveal herself._

_At midday, one such person appeared. Epithumiandra threw herself onto the shore and morphed back into her regular form. She inhaled the sweet, dry scent of the earthy air—and immediately began to choke. Epithumiandra was so paralyzed by her inability to leave that she couldn't even roll herself back in the water. She flailed her arms and gasped, but it was useless. She could feel herself dying._

_All of a sudden, Epithumiandra felt a push on her side, and she was flipped back into the river. She sucked in a mouthful of water and turned her eyes to look at her rescuer. He was a sly-looking man with shiny black hair._

"_Thank you," she said from beneath the ripples._

_He smiled down at her. "You're welcome," he replied. "What are you? A mermaid? A nymph?"_

"_No. I am Epithumiandra, ruler of the seas and creator of the race of man."_

_The man's smile turned contemptuous. "A god!" he mocked. "I thought gods were supposed to be all-knowing, or at least smart." He laughed derisively, igniting Epithumiandra's rage._

_She shot her hand out of the river and dragged him beneath. "I am not a god," she snarled. "Gods are honorable." Epithumiandra invaded him, violated him, and when she was done, she disposed of him._

_Epithumiandra fell asleep at the bottom of the river, and when she awoke, she gave birth to a daughter. She came out wrong, feet first, and she did not cry. She simply looked at Epithumiandra with wide eyes. Epithumiandra named her daughter Audemensus and immediately went back to her kingdom. Audemensus did not follow, but she appeared later that night. As the days passed, Audemensus divided her time between the sea and the land. Epithumiandra never told her of her parentage, but Audemensus found her earth brother. They became inseparable; Audemensus would not have left the surface if it weren't necessary. Instead, she spent her time running around with a mere mortal; Epithumiandra scoffed every time she saw Audemensus return to the palace with a smile on her face. _You're better than that_, Epithumiandra would think, and sometimes she heard Audemensus answer back, _No, I'm not_. She only heard it in a metaphorical sense, however; her daughter's lips never moved once. That only made Epithumiandra scoff even more._

_Epithumiandra's second child was just as estranged as the first. They had powers she could barely dream of; they saw things she never would. Epithumiandra sank into a deep despair and prepared for a life of loneliness. _

o+o+o+o+o

_Cruenterrex was furious when she learned of Epithumiandra's antics. "You have disobeyed me!" she raged. "You will never be able to leave your kingdom. I will send you no more companions. You will live a lonely life for the rest of your days."_

_Epithumiandra wailed and wallowed in her grief. She spent all her time in her palace, refusing any food or water. Parakalus, from his place in the heavens, could see her agony and took pity on her._

"_Daughter, what is wrong?" he asked._

"_Oh, Father Moon," Epithumiandra cried, "I am unhappy. My mother will not let me leave my palace, nor will she send anyone to keep me company. All I want is someone with whom I can talk, someone who will find genuine joy in my presence. My children do not speak to me, and I am alone."_

_Parakalus sympathized with her, and he filled her belly with a child. Her second daughter, Arnithusia, was a happy, loving child. She and Epithumiandra spent all their time together, and Epithumiandra came to love her as she loved no one else. _

_As Arnithusia grew older, Epithumiandra began to notice something very strange about her. No one was ever able to lie to Arnithusia. Eventually, the other citizens of the sea noticed this as well, and Epithumiandra's daughter grew to a position of power. Merpeople and nymphs alike came to her to settle disputes and ferret out the truth. Eventually, no one paid any more attention to Epithumiandra. No one, that is, except for Arnithusia, who remained her loving companion._

_But it wasn't enough. Epithumiandra began to grow jealous of her daughter, jealous that yet another child had a unique power that she herself lacked. She began to resent Arnithusia, and she started to scheme about ways to disgrace her._

_For the first time in Epithumiandra's life, Cruenterrex came to her aid._

"_I can hear your frustrations, my daughter," Cruenterrex soothed. "Perhaps I can help you."_

_Epithumiandra was not convinced. "You have never helped me, mother. Why should I trust you?"_

_Cruenterrex laughed malevolently. "Ah, but I know how to solve your problems. I can give you whatever you want."_

"_I want Arnithusia's power," Epithumiandra instantaneously replied. "If I can do what she does, people will respect me and pay attention to me."_

"_You must promise me one thing," Cruenterrex said. "You must promise me that you will never try to leave your kingdom again."_

"_I promise," Epithumiandra swore. _

"_Not so fast, child. There are other prices."_

_But Epithumiandra would not listen. "There is no price costly enough to change my decision. Give me the power."_

_So Cruenterrex did, and Epithumiandra's hopes came to fruition. She ruled Phulaquus with Arnithusia at her side, and for once in her life, she was happy.

* * *

_Emily flipped eagerly through the rest of the book, hungry to know more. But it was done telling her a story for the time being. Emily was more confused than ever; with each successive installment, she expected to find a reason why Effy didn't want her to read the book. But she couldn't—at the moment, everyone seemed happy. Bellicatus was off schmoozing women, Audemensus was hanging around with her human brother, and Epithumiandra finally had what she wanted: a purpose and someone who loved her. For the life of her, Emily couldn't see the danger in the captivating words. She didn't know why Effy got so scared whenever she saw the book.

Emily sighed and ran her hands over the pages, her small fingers dancing across the stiff, rough paper. She stopped when she got to the spine—there was a ruffle of torn paper.

Someone had ripped out the next few pages, and Emily was pretty sure she knew who. It looked liked she had just found Effy's fear.

* * *

Cook and Effy were waiting for Emily when she got home.

"I told you not to go anywhere," Cook said, his voice low in his throat. If he had been an animal, he would be standing on the balls of his feet and his hackles would be raised. Emily was terrified of him at the moment.

"Is she okay?" Emily blurted.

"I shouldn't even tell you," Cook snapped.

"She's fine," Effy said. Cook whipped his head around, glaring daggers at his roommate.

"Where'd you go?" he asked gruffly.

Emily bristled, his tone immediately putting her on the defensive. "I don't have to tell you," she retorted.

Cook laughed sardonically. "Oh, yes, you do," he said. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, Emilio. When I say that you need to stay away from Naomi, you need to listen to me because maybe, just maybe, I know what the fuck I'm talking about."

"I'm a big girl, Cook. I think I can take care of myself."

"I'm telling you, Red, that you can't!" Cook yelled. "This is bigger than you could ever imagine. Let me and Eff take care of you, okay?"

Emily knew that JJ was right; Cook was just being protective. He cared in his own bumbling way. Emily would have found it touching had she not remembered that he lied to her, even if it only was by omission.

"That's nice, Cook," Emily said scathingly. "I'd appreciate the sentiment if it wasn't such utter bullshit. How's your sister doing, by the way? Effy said she was fine but I want to hear it from you."

Cook's mouth dropped open in a perfect 'O'. Emily smirked; she thought that only happened in cartoons. He cleared his throat. "I don't…what are you talking about?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, don't even try it, Cook," Emily spat. "JJ told me Naomi's your sister. Nice little detail to have left out, that one."

Cook clenched his jaw. "And what else did JJ tell you?" His tried to play it cool, but Emily could see the worry behind his eyes. Cook was scared; he was just as terrified as she was. Fear seemed to be a common theme in their household, and Emily sighed inwardly. Hadn't she left Bristol to get away from the fear?

"Nothing," Emily said softly, wishing she had a better answer.

"That's where you went just now?" Emily nodded. "Good." Cook put his hands on his hips and paced the floor; Emily felt like a child in trouble with her dad. She half-expected him to tell her to go to her room.

The three of them waited in silence; no one really knew what to say. Emily had a thousand questions in her mind that were aching to be let out. They drummed against her temple; the curve of the question mark slithered into her ears; the dot dangled off and broke away, swimming across her cheeks and oozing out of her tear ducts. Emily wanted to let them all out.

Instead, she handed Effy her bag. "Here, Eff. JJ said you left this at the store." Effy took it hesitantly. Emily could tell that she was trying to work out if she'd left the book in it. Emily decided to own up and erase any doubt. "I already read the next part of the story. I guess you fixed it so I can't read anymore, hm?"

Effy narrowed her eyes. "Yes. I did. Can I have it back?"

Emily sighed in resignation. "It's in the bag."

"What story is she talking about, Eff?" Cook chimed in. Effy raised her eyebrows suggestively and Cook's eyes widened. "Get the fuck out!" he exclaimed. He glanced back and forth between Effy and Emily, each time his gaze getting increasingly calculating. Emily could almost see the cogs clinking in his brain, trying to make sense of an absurd situation.

"She could help us, Eff," he said quietly. "If she knows, she could help."

"We don't need any help," Effy snapped. "You can't change things, Cook. Take your own advice. Leave it alone. Like I told you before, just let it go."

Cook opened his mouth to retort, then changed his mind. He nodded slowly and walked away, leaving Emily, once again, with Effy's penetrating eyes.

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered.

Effy fixed upon Emily an unreadable expression. "Just…leave it be for a while. You've got to stay away."

"I can't do that, Eff," Emily mumbled thickly, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I don't have a choice in the matter, really."

Effy sighed sympathetically. "Meddle anymore and you really won't," she warned. "We're just trying to keep you safe."

Emily blinked back tears. "Naomi makes me feel safe," she whined.

Effy simply shook her head and walked away.

* * *

Emily spent the rest of the day at the bookstore, shuffling blindly through her routine. JJ noticed her dampened mood and wisely made no move to improve it. He took over dealing with the customers and left her to do inventory and stock the shelves. It was a wonderfully menial task, one that allowed her mind to wander and do a tiny bit of wallowing. Emily was still scared out of her wits by Naomi's behavior earlier in the day; she still felt useless, like she had failed Naomi in some way. That feeling of helplessness was only compounded by Effy's and Cook's reactions. Emily had half a mind to go back to Bristol and forget that anything had ever happened. It would be easy to fall back into a life with Sam, revert to domesticity. All she had to do was apologize profusely and cry a little; the girl was powerless to resist tearful eyes and a pouted mouth. (Emily didn't like being so manipulative, but when one was Katie's sibling it was hard to avoid).

She passed the day in mindless tedium, only stopping when JJ told her that her shift was over. Emily thought about going back to the house, but the thought of facing Effy and Cook was more humiliating than she could bear.

Instead, she went to the beach and sat. She stayed alone on the sand, parked next to a bunch of shells shaped in the configuration of an apology. _Sorry_, they said.

Emily only wished that Naomi would resurface so she could return the favor.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Inevitably, my plan for this story has sort of dissolved. I never seem to stick to these things. Fortunately, however, that doesn't mean I've run out of ideas. I just need to reorganize what's going on because some things that happen in this chapter weren't intended to happen until much later. Also, can I geek out for a second? I do a lot of research before I write a story, especially into names, and I looked into one character's name and it just fit them to a T. It was totally unintentional and I'm really pleased with myself, and oh my God, you guys, it's the coolest thing ever. I realize that you probably don't care because you don't know who I'm talking about, but just trust me on this. Anyway, hopefully this chapter answers a few questions and sparks a few more. Enjoy!

* * *

**

Emily sat on the beach for the next six nights. She made a beeline for her sandy perch after she got off work, barely taking time to say goodbye to JJ. She felt guilty every time she left because JJ was obviously sad—they barely interacted while she was at work, but, damnit, she was sad, too. She wanted Naomi back. It wasn't enough to sit on a beach that both of them shared because other people shared it, too. She wanted to sit with Naomi at a seedy bar counter and drink pink cocktails that fucked her beyond all oblivion because at least, from her experience, they had also led to drunken cuddling. _Yeah, and that night is the reason you're in this situation_, she told herself. She almost didn't care, almost got up and scoured the shoreline for Naomi. Emily was convinced she'd find Naomi sooner or later; she could recruit JJ and Cook and Effy and fan out a search party. But Emily couldn't do that. She couldn't risk messing up her relationships with Cook and Effy; as infuriating as they had been, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were turning out to be more right than she would have hoped.

Emily didn't want them to be right; she didn't want to be sitting on the beach, waiting in vain for someone who was never going to show up. The only hints Emily got that Naomi was still even alive were the messages she left in shells. It was horrendously tacky and childish, but Emily clung onto each message as if it were an oxygen tank.

"_Sorry"_

"_Don't blame yourself"_

"_You look lovely"_

"_I miss you"_

Inevitably, Emily fell asleep on the beach every night; around two or three she would drift off, and when she woke up there was a new set of shells waiting for her. Emily half-wished she'd wake up to find Naomi making them, but she was comforted by the idea that she wasn't alone all the time. She'd take what little she could get of Naomi, even if it meant sleeping through their only interactions.

But she never once thought about sleeping back at the house. Emily was a determined girl, and right now she was determined to see Naomi in person. It would happen eventually. She just had to wait.

* * *

"You've got to stop doing this." Emily was greeted by the same admonition she heard every morning when she got back to Cook's place.

"I told you, Effy, I can't."

"You look like shit."

"I don't care."

"If Cook knew what you were doing, he'd throw a fit."

Emily looked at Effy for the first time since she'd walked in the door. "You haven't told him?"

Effy cocked her head; a hard look set in her eyes, turning them to glass. "No," she said simply. "I don't have to listen to Cook."

"Oh, and I do?" Emily challenged.

Effy flicked her head to the side like she had a tic. "You don't know Cook like I do, Emily. I haven't told him because so far you're not in any trouble. But you will be if you keep at it." Emily opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Effy had a lot to say, and she stopped her with a hand. "No, look, I know I said I wasn't going to tell you to stay away. But I just thought you liked her. I didn't think you were going to go digging."

"Digging?" Emily exclaimed. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Effy said quickly. "Forget I even mentioned it."

But Emily didn't want to; Effy looked like she might finally crack about something, if only she were pushed. Emily wasn't against pushing, not at all.

"No," she said slowly, thinking out loud. "What are you talking about?" A flash of realization went off in her head. "Do you mean that book?" Effy looked like an animal caught in that moment where it was too late to run away from the car that was about to obliterate it. "Why do you hate it so much?" Emily pressed.

"I don't," Effy lied.

Emily scoffed. "Oh, yes, you do, Effy. You practically shit your pants every time I so much as mention it. Why?"

"It doesn't matter," Effy said curtly.

"It does to me," Emily fired back. "What, did you have a bad experience with a historian when you were younger?"

"No," Effy said petulantly.

"No," Emily mocked, "because he would have to be seriously deluded, wouldn't he? This shit isn't history. So, what is it then? Don't like to read?"

"Shut up."

"Personal vendetta against sea-goddesses?"

"You really don't know what you're talking about, Emily."

"So tell me!" Emily shouted, frustrated beyond belief. "Jesus Christ, Eff, you're taking this all personally! I'm not hurting you by wanting to read this book. God, it's not like I'm reading your diary or anything!" She huffed out a laugh and turned expectantly toward Effy, waiting for her witty retort.

Instead, Effy stared at her unflinchingly with those wide, blue eyes that bored into her skull. They were lasers, creating Effy-sized dents in Emily's brain, making her lose focus and awareness of anything else.

_Way to go, Sherlock_, Effy's voice said in Emily's mind. It was almost like the words had come straight from Effy's eyes into Emily's eardrums; they reverberated off the inside of her head and fell down into her stomach like fifty-pound weights.

Emily was so transfixed she almost didn't register exactly what Effy had said. By the time she figured it out, Effy had disappeared upstairs.

* * *

"Effy! Effy, come on, you can't leave me hanging like that!" Emily pounded on Effy's door; it was locked, but she'd break it down if it came to that. "Open up, for fuck's sake." She jiggled the doorknob frantically.

There was a moment of silence before Emily heard Effy pad softly to the door and click the lock open. Emily swung the door open without a second to spare (and with considerably more force than was necessary).

She was prepared to yell at Effy for at least two solid minutes, but she was rendered speechless by Effy's bedroom. Emily had never been in it before, and it took her eyes a few moments to adjust. It was dark, painted a midnight blue that was completely mesmerizing. It was a color Emily had only seen in photographs, when the photographer found a particularly deep patch of the sea. Emily felt like she was being sucked under water.

"Sometimes, I miss the water." Effy's voice snapped Emily out of her momentary shock. She was sitting on the bed, arms curled protectively around her legs. She looked tinier and frailer than Emily had ever seen her, like a child caught in a world that wasn't planning on being very nice to her.

"What?"

Effy scooted closer to the wall, and Emily sat down next to her. "It's not so weird, living underwater. Not as weird as you'd think, anyway. A lot like living on land but without the sun or air."

"Yeah, but—"

"I've been in your dreams twice, Emily," Effy said quietly.

Emily furrowed her brows in thought. "No, you've only been in one. That first one." Effy shook her head and Emily racked her brain trying to come up with the answer. Her eyes widened when she finally did. "Cook was talking to you," she said. "But he called you something else."

Effy nodded. "'Aud.' He called me by my real name. Or, well, he started to. I stopped him."

"Aud," Emily repeated. Her eyes widened so far they felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. "Aud? Like, Audemensus? Like the character from the story?"

"It's not a character," Effy said softly. "It's me."

Emily shook her head, not daring to believe what Effy was telling her. "Eff, that's not possible. You're sitting here with me, and you're definitely not a…how old would you be if you were this person?"

"A few million years old, four, maybe. You lose count after a while."

Emily scoffed. "Right, but you're not. You're not a four-million-year-old demigod."

"Not anymore," Effy said, almost to herself.

Emily pressed her fingers to her temples. It was too much for her to take, Naomi's messages and Effy's revelation. "Yeah, but how did Cook know your real name?"

"You're a good detective," Effy teased. "You tell me."

Emily threw Effy a sneer and got up. "I need to take a walk."

* * *

It was too early to start work, but Emily knew that JJ would be at the shop. He might always insist that Emily loved books more than he did, but Emily had yet to find someone else who was as enamored with the store itself. He barely left it.

Emily tried to open the door, but finding it locked, she sighed and pulled out her key.

"Emily?"

Emily closed the door with a quiet click. "Do you always lock the door after you get here, Jay?"

"Well, yes," JJ said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's how people know we aren't open."

Emily checked her watch. "It's barely 7:00, JJ. The store doesn't open until 9:00. The hours are clearly posted on the window."

"Yes, but some people get up early and walk around town."

Emily nodded. "Right, and who does that besides you?"

"Um, well…" JJ floundered. "Well, you do! What are you doing here at 7:08 in the morning?"

Emily chuckled to herself; she'd almost forgotten why she needed to go to the bookstore in the first place. "I actually have an agenda, Jay. Can we sit somewhere? I need to ask you something." JJ nodded and motioned for them to sit at one of the couches in the kids' section. "What do you know about Cook and Effy?"

JJ looked shocked only for a second. "Not too much, really. They've only been here for a few years."

"How long?" Emily probed.

JJ craned his head in thought. "Four, maybe five? They just appeared out of nowhere. Cook got a job working at some diner, bought a house, and then Effy showed up and they haven't left yet."

"He wasn't working at Freddie's?"

JJ shook his head slowly. "Freddie's didn't exist until Cook came. He built it. He co-owns it with Effy."

"So why does he still work at the bar?"

JJ clenched his jaw. A look of hate, anger, and hurt flashed across his eyes. "To make up for what he did."

Emily sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "JJ, you're getting cryptic. This isn't making any sense at all. What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, JJ got up and went to the tiny breakroom they had. He returned with two mugs of tea and gave one to Emily—a preemptive apology.

"Cook and I used to be friends," he started. "Not best friends, but good friends. We met through a mutual acquaintance—Freddie. _He_ was my best friend, had been since we were little. He was a bit of a stoner, Freddie was, and he used to tell me about this guy he knew who was the craziest person he'd ever met. They'd go out all the time and get into all sorts of trouble. He was all Freddie would ever talk about, and I got jealous. I never really, you know, had any friends besides Freddie, so I told him I wanted to meet this guy. Freds took me out with him one night, and after that, Freddie, Cook, and I became sort of a team. Cook would find ridiculous places to go or things to do, Freddie would smoke his face off, and I'd watch out for the both of them. It was nice for a while."

Emily's tea lay forgotten on the table. "So what happened?"

"I never saw Cook during the day. Whenever I asked Freddie about it, he would get really serious and tell me not to worry about it. But every night without fail, we'd be down at the beach at 9:30 and Cook would be there. I was running late one night and I hadn't heard from Freddie, so I assumed we were still on. It was a little before 10:00 by the time I actually got there. I didn't see Freddie anywhere, but Cook was arguing with a woman."

"Who?" Emily asked.

JJ took a sip of his tea and winced. "Naomi. I didn't find that out until later." He stopped and looked down. Emily didn't know if he was going to continue or not.

"Well, so what were they saying?"

JJ swallowed and twitched his head as if trying to rid it of a swarm of mosquitoes. Emily looked closer and realized he was really probably trying to stave off the tears that were glistening in his eyes.

"Cook was drenched," he said hoarsely. "He was on his knees soaking wet, and he was crying. Naomi was standing over him, yelling furiously. 'What did you do, Cook?' I heard her scream. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? He was your best friend!' I asked them what was going on, and Cook seemed to wake up. He got off his knees and started yelling at me, screaming for me to go away. He was absolutely livid, and I was scared of him. I ran as fast as I could and didn't see him until the morning. He looked terrible, like he hadn't slept for days. I asked him what was going on but he didn't even seem to hear me."

JJ cleared his throat and opened his mouth soundlessly. It was a few moments before he was able to speak again.

"They found Freddie's body two days later. He bumped into some poor fisherman's boat. 'Immortality,' it was called, can you believe that? They never did figure out how he died, but I haven't spoken to Cook since then."

Emily put her tea down slowly once she realized what JJ was implying. "You think Cook killed Freddie?"

JJ nodded. "I've never been able to prove it, but yes."

The idea that Cook was a murderer didn't sit well with Emily. She chose not to believe it for the time being. "JJ, I don't think—"

"Please don't try to change my mind, Emily. You really haven't got a clue about anything," JJ snapped.

"Okay," Emily conceded. "Fair enough. What about Effy?"

JJ sighed and swiped angrily at his eyes. "Effy showed up the night after. She shacked up with Cook and that's all I know. Effy's always been nice to me; she's acted as a buffer between me and Cook. I don't have anything against her."

"Thanks, JJ." Emily patted his knee awkwardly, not really knowing the best way to comfort him. "I don't mean to be insensitive," she said cautiously, "but do you know what Cook does in the mornings? He's not really around the house a lot."

JJ barked a cynical laugh. "Sure, I do. He does the same thing every morning—sits on that fucking beach until he has to start work."

* * *

Emily found Cook sitting in a tiny alcove away from the water, a small depression in the sand surrounded by grass and rocks. She sat down next to him without so much as a glance over.

"It's beautiful, the water," she said gently.

"Yeah," he grunted. "It is."

Emily looked down and fiddled with a piece of grass. "Had a nice chat with your sister today."

"You've seen Naomi?" Cook asked sharply.

"No," Emily calmly replied. "Your other sister. The one you live with." When she finally looked at him, Emily saw Cook's eyes close in relief.

"Guess you worked it out then, huh?"

Emily nodded. "Guess so. Is that why you told me to stay away?"

Cook sighed and wrapped an arm awkwardly around Emily, pulling her closer to him. "There are things going on, Emilio, that you don't even know about. Things that are bigger than you could ever imagine. I just wanted to protect you."

Emily smiled. "Yeah, but now I know things. You said that maybe I could help. I'm not a child, Cook."

He laughed and squeezed her shoulder. "Compared to me, you totally are, kid. There's still a chance for you to get out of this."

"What if I don't want to?"

Cook shook his head; Emily felt his hair brush lightly against her cheek. "It's not your decision right now, Red."

Emily sighed and snuggled into him, burying her face in his shirt. "I'm sorry about Freddie," she murmured into his chest. "JJ told me about him," she said, answering his silent question.

"JJ. Poor bastard doesn't know the whole story."

"Seems to be a lot of that going around," Emily quipped.

"Yeah, well, it's for the best."

"For you," Emily retorted. She immediately regretted it. "Sorry. It just seems a little unfair."

"Get used to it, princess." Cook cleared his throat. "Despite what JJ might think, I still like the guy. We'd still be friends if it was up to me, but you said it—life's unfair sometimes."

"I hope he's not mad at me for prying. I just need to know things."

"Ah, don't be crazy," Cook dismissed. "The guy worships the ground you walk on."

Emily scoffed. "He does not!"

Cook laughed. "Oh, don't kid yourself, Em. He said he was thinking about letting you run the shop about a week after he gave you a job. Plus, Eff said his eyes practically jumped out of his face the first time he saw you."

Emily sat up and swatted Cook on the shoulder. "You're so full of shit, Cook."

"Yeah, maybe," he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm gonna fuck off. Gotta run a few errands before I start work."

Emily stood up and dusted off her pants. "I should go, too." She followed Cook onto the street.

"You'll be back tonight though, right?" he asked. Emily looked at him in surprise; a twinkle of mischief glinted in his eyes. "You're not the only one who's gotten messages from a certain someone on the beach. I'm her brother, remember? I know where to look."

"You little shit!" Emily smiled. "Effy said you'd be pissed off if you knew."

Cook smiled, too. "Yeah, well, Eff can be wrong sometimes just like the rest of us." He shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk away. "Bring coffee this time. She comes up around three thirty."

* * *

Emily took Cook's advice; she'd been sitting on the beach since 8:00, armed not only with a gigantic thermos of coffee, but also a blanket, two sweaters, and an extra pair of socks.

She looked at her watch. _3:23_. Emily kept her eyes peeled on the water, squinting hard to find any sign of movement. She was rewarded about thirty seconds later with the most entrancing scene she could have ever envisioned.

Emily watched as Naomi emerged from the sea, walking calmly up the sand. Her head appeared first, edging slowly over the surface as she strode slowly onto the beach. Not a drop of water stayed on her or her clothes which looked like something out of Effy's wardrobe and made Emily's heart race.

She couldn't take her eyes off of Naomi, not even when the blonde stopped once she saw that Emily was awake.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Naomi said dumbly.

"What are you _wearing?_" Emily breathed. "Is that underwater dress code?" The fabric covering Naomi was barely fabric at all; it was thin and almost sheer. The baby-blue mesh danced lightly over Naomi's skin, swirling around her arms and ankles, floating away from her stomach. It clung to her in all the right places. Emily could see every curve on Naomi's body

Naomi blushed. "Um, sort of. I usually change into hum—_normal_ clothes if I think I'm going to run into anyone. I didn't tonight because you're supposed to be asleep," she repeated. "Can I have one of those sweaters?"

Emily reluctantly threw her a sweater, which Naomi immediately slipped into. Naomi took a seat next to Emily and draped the blanket over herself, covering her legs.

"Are you cold? You can borrow some socks if you want," Emily offered.

"I don't like it when things cover my feet," Naomi said. "Why are you awake?"

Emily smiled. "Cook told me I should be. Sorry if that ruins your plan for a note. Thanks for them, by the way. They were very cute."

"I just didn't want you to worry," Naomi mumbled.

Emily grasped Naomi's hand and rested her head on Naomi's shoulder. "A little late for that, Naomi," she gently chided. "I found out some interesting things in the past few days." Emily felt Naomi tense up. "But right now I just want to say that I'm glad you're alright."

Naomi leaned her head against Emily's. "Yeah, me too."

"We do need to talk, though."

Naomi nodded. "I know. But can't we just sit like this? For a bit?"

Emily burrowed into Naomi's side, trying to steal all her warmth. "Yeah, we can. For a bit."

* * *

**The plot, it thickens! I'm sure some of you saw this coming, but leave me reviews anyway, even if they are just "OMG NAOMI BREATHES UNDERWATER? IS SHE A FISH!111!" (Answer: no, she is not a fish).**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey, look at me! A quick(er) update. Longest chapter yet, and exposition like WHOA! But for anyone who isn't interested in the plot (and curse you, if you exist), I've given you about 2,600 words of pure Naomily at the beginning. Also, can I just take a moment to thank you all for your reviews, especially to the mythology portion of it? I was honestly so sure that no one would pay attention if I added the mythology component that I almost didn't put it in. I'm truly touched that a few of you have expressed interest in/fascination with it. You guys are the best! And with that out of the way, please don't be too frustrated with me for this chapter :) Enjoy!

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**

Emily could tell she was in for a long night. Naomi hadn't budged an inch, but Emily could feel her hand drooping, as if weighted with bricks. She knew shit was about to get heavy. She was just waiting for Emily to scoop it up.

So Emily did. "I think 'a bit' is over, Naomi," she said gently. "Are you okay to talk?"

Naomi nodded, slow at first then with more confidence. She wasn't excited, but she was ready. "Go right ahead," she said wearily.

Emily explained what she knew about Cook and Effy, and how it all related back to Naomi. It wasn't hard to figure out where she fit into everything once Emily had Effy pegged—she just still didn't really believe it. Emily talked for at least twenty minutes, explaining everything she knew about Freddie and JJ, where the book had come from, why she wasn't mad at anyone. Naomi, for her part, just sat and listened. It was okay with Emily; the blonde would have her turn to speak soon enough.

"You're too smart for your own good, you know that?" Naomi said once Emily had said her piece.

Emily chuckled. "Yeah, that's not the first time someone has said that to me. Seems to be a detriment more than an asset."

Naomi smiled a crooked smile. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far." She ran her fingers through her hair, stalling. "This is the part where I have to talk now, yes?" Emily nodded.

Naomi cleared her throat. "Okay, well you got it mostly right. I'm almost as old as the Earth, I can live under or above water, Effy and Cook are my family…whatever. But you need to understand…how much of that book did you read?"

Emily leaned her head back, thinking. "Um, I stopped at the part where your mom gets the same powers as you. Effy cut out the rest so I couldn't read it." Emily stopped, realized what she was saying, and laughed. "I'm sorry, this sounds ridiculous coming out of my mouth."

Naomi trilled a laugh as well. "It's okay; it's not silly to me."

Emily nodded. "Of course it's not; it's your life. But I have to tell you, it's all fascinating. I tried to research it when I got to Cook's story. I couldn't find a single reference to it anywhere."

Naomi shook her head. "Yeah, you won't either, probably ever. I don't even know how that book got made, but there aren't many references to this version of history. Well, there aren't many _left_, I should say. Have you ever studied any Hindu teachings?"

"No. Have you?" Emily asked, amused.

Naomi smirked. "A few million years is even longer than it sounds, Emily. I had to do something to pass the time."

Emily rested her chin on her head, gazing in fascination at the blonde sitting next to her. "So, what, you chum it up with Hindu gods? Isn't that like cheating?"

Naomi laughed loudly. "Don't be silly; gods cross paths all the time. The Hindu ones are actually quite nice. It's the Greek gods that are insufferable, the arrogant little shits," Naomi muttered to herself.

Emily couldn't help herself any longer—she burst out laughing, amazed at the absurdity of it all. "This is insane," she said. "I'm sitting on a beach with a woman who, for all intents and purposes, looks like a normal person—only we're chatting about ancient gods and superbeings."

"It's not as crazy as you might think, Emily," Naomi contradicted. "You've got modern myths, too. You just call them different things. What do you think religion is, for fuck's sake?"

"Are you saying that God is real? Have you met Jesus?" Emily teased.

Naomi frowned. "Now you're just mocking me. Look, take a serious glance at myths and origin stories from different cultures, and you start to see some common themes. It's not out of the realm of possibility that there might be some credibility to their claims. As much as it's been romanticized and fictionalized, myth has an historical aspect. That is a fact."

"But it's not," Emily protested. "There's no proof for anything."

"You're sitting right next to proof, Emily," Naomi gently countered. "I'm not saying that Apollo drives his chariot across the sky every night; I'm not saying that Thor governs the weather with his gigantic hammer. I'm not saying that Aphrodite is the epitome of sexual perfection. Actually, no," she corrected. "I am saying that. That chick is a total fox in the bedroom." Emily raised her eyebrows; Naomi rolled her eyes in response. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I can't read mythology _all_ the time. You know that drink I gave you? Well, she feeds them to you, only she doesn't use a cup. And also she's totally naked. But anyway, my point is that there is an aspect of truth to every myth you encounter. You just have to know how to find it."

"Are you saying that your mother is actually the creator of the entire race of man? What about all the others? Why aren't they true?" Emily challenged.

Naomi shook her head; she looked frustrated. "No, you're missing the point. Maybe my mom did do all those things; who knows? Maybe she is Prometheus, and Brahma, and the hacked-off flesh of Ymir. Maybe she isn't and all of those myths are wrong. It's impossible to tell anymore because stories get changed. People change them to fit their needs, and they assign different names and situations to things that might have started off the same. Reality isn't black and white, Emily. It's muddied. It's everything, and it's confusing as shit."

Emily took a moment to consider Naomi's words. They seemed well-thought-out, if not completely true. She decided to let the issue go for a moment. "Okay, I can accept that. For now. Go back to the Hindu stuff. What does that have to do with anything?"

Naomi sighed and stretched her legs out. "Right, the Hindu teachings. Hinduism is all about enlightenment, yes?" Emily nodded. "There's this state that every Hindu strives for, this thing called moksha. When you reach it, you're essentially removed from the flow of reincarnation, because reincarnation makes you human again. It dooms you to at least one more lifetime of suffering."

"Sounds like a happy religion."

"Well, I wouldn't call it happy, per se, but it's got good intentions. Anyway. It gets a bit complicated the further you go, but there are these leaders called paramahamsas. They're basically religious figures who have attained enlightenment. Their name translates from Sanskrit into 'Supreme Swan.' According to Hindu myth, the swan has the ability to separate milk from water. In a paramahamsa, this manifests in their ability to tell the real from the unreal, the truth from the untruth."

Emily could see where Naomi was going with this. "Right, and you're Arnithusia. That's your power, knowing what's a lie and what isn't."

"You've got it. There are hints of us—me, Cook, and Effy—in myths all over the world. They're just so buried in other shit that people mostly forgot about them."

"What's the swan got to do with it?" Emily joked. "Is that your alter-ego? Human by night, charming water fowl by day?"

Naomi smiled. "Remember what I said about knowing how to find the truth in a myth? You can do it, too, you know; I don't hold the monopoly on that power. I just do it all the time, that's all."

"Must be cool," Emily said.

Naomi huffed. "Not always as cool as you think."

"Can I ask you something?" Naomi nodded. "Or really, a few things. I just want to know you a little better."

"Shoot."

"What's your mom really like? The story doesn't exactly paint the best picture of her."

Naomi sighed. "She's…aggravating, just like any other mother. Ridiculously idealistic, wise when it doesn't count, stupid when it does, infuriatingly right most of the time. She thinks everyone is as loving as she is, and when she finds out they aren't, she wants to save them. Got a wicked sense of humor, too."

"Not always a psychotic, fascist matriarch, then?"

"No, those are just her good days," Naomi quipped. "She really can be quite wonderful, actually. I try not to ever tell her this, but I love her to pieces."

Emily watched as Naomi made designs in the sand. "More than Cook or Effy?" she prompted.

Naomi's slender fingers stilled halfway into a swirl. "It's not the same, no. Cook and Effy are different than me."

"Because they don't have your powers."

Naomi resumed her drawing, completing the swell of a wave by her foot. "Mostly no. But the 'yes' part of that answer makes a big fucking difference."

"What happens after I stopped reading, in the part of the story that Effy cut out?"

Naomi looked apologetically over at Emily. "I can't tell you that, not yet."

"Fine. Did Cook really kill Freddie?"

Naomi sighed. "I can't answer that either, Em. It's not my story to tell. You're asking me awfully hard questions."

"Of course I am; they probably have awfully interesting answers."

Naomi hummed in agreement. "Yeah, probably. Dangerous ones, too."

"Okay, so what can you tell me?"

Naomi winced. "Not a lot of what you want to know, I'm afraid."

Emily sighed and flopped backwards onto the blanket. "Well, that's unfortunate."

Naomi leaned back on her elbows. "A bit, yeah, but…" She hesitated. "But don't stop talking. I like talking to you."

Emily smiled and felt her heart jump into her throat. "Yeah, okay." Her eyes brightened with mischief as she got an idea. "Can I test you?" she asked excitedly.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, to see if you really can tell a lie from the truth." Emily smiled in anticipation.

Naomi groaned. "Oh, come on, Ems, it's not a switch I can flip off whenever I want to. It's literally a god-given talent. I've never failed once."

"Please?" Emily persisted.

"Okay, okay." Naomi relented and sat up, patting the space in front of her. "Come on, get up. It's easier if I look at you."

Emily crossed her legs and sat with her knees touching Naomi's. She vowed not to look away, not to blink if she could help it.

"You've got to say something," Naomi teased, smirking.

Emily blushed. "Right. Okay, we'll start easy. My mother's name is Jenna."

"Truth."

"My dad owns a restaurant."

Naomi's eyes turned from blue to red for just a split-second. "Lie."

Emily smiled. "Yeah, he owns a gym. Did you know that your eyes turn red when you catch someone in a lie?"

Naomi nodded. "Yeah, if you pay attention, they look more like cat's eyes, too," she dismissed. "Keep going."

"I broke my toe jumping off a swing set when I was six."

"Lie," Naomi immediately fired back. "It was your pinky finger."

"Are you a mind-reader, too?" Emily asked in shock. "I thought that was just Effy."

Naomi smiled sheepishly. "No, that was just a lucky guess." Emily raised her eyebrows. "It was!" Naomi insisted. "The pinky finger on your right hand is all bent out of shape. It looks deformed," she kidded, giggling.

Emily pretended to be offended. "It does not!" She burst into laughter at the sound of Naomi's incessant chuckling. "Take that back, you jerk!" She caught Naomi off guard, halfway through her laughing fit, and pushed her over. Naomi squealed in surprise. "You're enjoying yourself far too much," Emily warned.

Naomi sat up again and tried to stifle a laugh. It didn't work. "Truth," she said. It was too much for Emily. She pounced at Naomi, knocking her down and wrestling with her. They tumbled across the sand, all the while continuing their game. Emily shouted out random facts about herself and Naomi judged them, sometimes pausing to spit sand out of her mouth.

"I have a cat named Dibs!"

"Truth!"

"I put orange juice in my hot cocoa!"

"Argh…truth!"

"I can't stand the color green!"

"Lie…oof!" They stopped on a flat patch of beach some ten yards from where they started; Naomi had come down quite hard on her back after propelling both of them off a small hill in the sand. Emily landed on top of Naomi, pinning her arms at her sides.

She smiled lasciviously. "I'm stronger than you," she murmured, her voice a low growl.

Something flashed across Naomi's eyes, but it wasn't red. It was black, a dark, hungry black. It sent a thrill of desire up Emily's spine. "Truth," Naomi croaked back in a hoarse whisper.

Emily ignored the voice in her head telling her to throw caution to the wind and ravage the blonde right then and there. She wanted to savor the moment, milk it for all it was worth. Emily lowered her face closer to Naomi's, keeping her eyes trained diligently on those baby blues. She parted her lips and exhaled, relishing the feel of Naomi's breath against her cheek; they were sharing the same air, feeding each other. It was incredibly intoxicating.

Emily could feel Naomi writhing beneath her; the fabric of Naomi's clothes rubbed against her legs and set her calves on fire. Naomi was sweating, though Emily wasn't sure if that was from sexual frustration or the rising sun. Whichever it was, Emily had to act fast; she could see the sand beginning to glow from the early morning rays.

"You're the best person I've ever known," Emily whispered.

Naomi's eyes filled with tears and she fluttered her eyelids closed slowly, almost painfully. "Lie," she said quietly. It was almost inaudible.

Emily stiffened her arms, hurt, and got up. She glanced up at the sun, watched it take its position proudly in the sky. It was beautiful. It also wasn't meant for her.

She crossed her arms and turned away from Naomi. "You should go," she said softly.

Naomi stripped off Emily's sweater and dropped it at her feet. "When you see Effy, try not to tell her about what just happened. She won't like it."

Emily rolled her eyes, glad Naomi couldn't see the tears that were welling in them. "Yeah, but she can—"

"I know," Naomi interrupted. "Just…try." She hesitated for a moment; Emily could feel her feet shifting in the sand. "I'm sorry, Emily," she mumbled.

Emily didn't say a word; she just stood there, a crumbling stalwart trying to brace itself against an impending storm. She listened to Naomi's footsteps as they got farther and farther away. Emily had told herself she wasn't going to watch Naomi leave, that it was too painful to do that again. But Emily had always had a bit of a masochistic streak when it came to her love life, and so she couldn't resist. She turned around and stared at Naomi's retreating form. Naomi strolled resignedly toward the water, kicking sand in front of her, head turned resolutely toward the ground.

She walked right from the sand into the water and never looked back. The ocean swallowed her up, and after a while, even the ripples started to fade away.

Emily hadn't been lying. Naomi's eyes hadn't turned red since Emily had mentioned her alleged color preferences. They both knew Emily was telling the truth. Emily saw the truth reflected in Naomi's eyes, and Naomi heard the truth in Emily's words. And yet, she ran off anyway.

It fucking hurt.

* * *

Cook treated Emily and Effy to dinner, a "real fucking dinner," as he put it, which meant that they weren't eating at Freddie's. Emily figured it was an apology of sorts for being difficult. Not that she was complaining or anything—the food was actually fucking awesome and Cook was buying.

The food was great, but the dinner was awkward. Effy dug into her plate voraciously, not saying a word to either of the other two tablemates. Cook kept trying to start a conversation; Emily would pick up on it, but it only lasted until it got to Effy, and then it died a quick and agonizing death.

"Look, Effy," Emily finally said, dropping her fork to her plate with a clatter. "I know you're feeling a bit vulnerable right now, but fucking hell, so is everyone else. At least try to get over yourself." Cook was shooting her warning glances across the table, but Emily was frustrated enough not to care. Her irritation and anger at Naomi had spilled over throughout the day, and Effy was getting the aftershocks.

"It's not that easy, Emily," Effy said quietly.

"Yeah, but it's not impossible either. Look at Cook. He seems fine enough, and he comes from the same place that you do."

Effy gave Emily a sympathetic look, one that clearly said, _'Thanks for the sentiment, but you don't know shit.'_

"Cook's not as put together as you might think, are you, Cookie?" Effy smirked at her brother. Cook actually blushed and looked down, ashamed. "There are things that we've been through, things that we've done—you couldn't imagine how hard it was to do them, let alone get over them."

"Everyone has shitty pasts, Effy. It doesn't mean you can't get away from them," Emily countered, wishing she could believe what she was saying even half as much as she wanted Effy to believe it.

"You have a brother, don't you, Emily?" There was a challenging glint in Effy's eye, like she knew she was about to beat Emily down viciously.

"Eff, don't," Cook warned quietly.

Emily looked curiously back and forth between the two, trying to gauge their emotions. She could only pick up on the heavy tension that was stifling them all, but any idiot could do that. Emily could tell that Cook wanted her to shut up and stay away from Effy's bait, but what could Emily say? She liked to fish.

"Yeah, I do," she said, matching Effy's smirk.

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like if he died? I mean, really thought about it. He's gone forever and you've lost one of your oldest friends, one of the people who understands what it means to be you because he has to deal with your parents, too. You can't steal glances at him anymore across the dinner table; you can't walk in the house and smack him lovingly across the back of the head. You can't talk to him and know that he'll understand in that way that only brothers do. Have you ever thought about that?"

Emily suddenly felt shamed. "No," she mumbled.

"No," Effy repeated. "You haven't thought about those things, and you don't know what it feels like when they come true. So please don't tell me about my past. You don't know anything." Effy's voice wasn't malicious; it wasn't patronizing or scornful. It just _was_, and Emily felt infinitely worse than she would have had Effy yelled at her.

"Hang on," Emily said, a thought suddenly occurring to her. "I'm sitting across from Cook right now. That can't have happened."

Effy smiled knowingly and got up. She pushed in her chair with a soft scrape. "Who said I was talking about Cook?" she said as she ruffled his hair.

She left Cook and Emily stunned in their seats; it was a good minute before either of them broke the tension.

"She means well, Effy does," Cook said quietly. "Just give her a bit of time."

"You keep telling me to give everything time, Cook," Emily blurted in frustration. "I don't know if I can do that."

Cook smiled. "Yeah, well, I've seen a lot of time in my life, haven't I, Red? I've gotten pretty good at knowing what to do with it."

"Yeah, but—"

"Just trust me on this, Emilio." Cook's mouth was smiling, but his eyes were serious, staring at Emily with an air of finality. "Things will happen when they're meant to. Okay?" Emily nodded. "Okay, so tell me how it's going with you and my dear sister."

Emily guffawed. "Your sister is incredibly aggravating. It's not all lilies and roses, I'm afraid."

"Did you know that lilies are the flowers of death?"

"Well, then maybe there are lilies," Emily quipped. "Why do you know that?"

Cook spread his arms wide. "I am a veritable font of knowledge, Emilio. You don't live as long as I do without picking up a few things."

"You should play your stupid trivia game, then, instead of hosting it."

Cook grinned mischievously. "There's a reason I don't play anymore. First time I did, I set the bar record for most questions answered correctly. No one's beat me since."

Emily took a sip of her wine. "Yet, you mean," she corrected.

* * *

Cook had succeeded in persuading Emily to back off, at least for a little bit, but that didn't mean Emily was done searching. She wouldn't do anything herself, true. However, Cook never _explicitly_ said anything about other people helping her. It might have been 6:12 in the morning in cloudy Bristol, but Emily had a phone call to make.

"Whoever the fuck this is, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up, you wanky shit," a groggy voice grumbled.

"Hi," Emily said meekly.

"What the _fuck_?" the voice exploded. Emily had to hold the phone at least six inches away from her ear to avoid injury. "It's been two weeks, you cow, where the fuck are you?"

"Erm, Cape Cod," Emily answered.

"The shitting hell is that?"

"Massachusetts."

"Massa…you're in America? What the fuck, Emily! Everyone has been fucking worried about you!"

"Katie…"

"No, don't 'Katie' me! Sam has been beside herself, said you just took off one night with some stupid flimsy note; Mum's been flipping her shit, asking me to call the sodding police and I said, 'No, Mum, it's fucking _Emily_, she'll be back sooner or later,' only you weren't—"

"Katie, just let me explain." Emily ran her hands through her hair, feeling like the absolute worst person on the planet.

"Oh, don't even try. Which plane are you getting on? When are you coming back?" Katie's questions, grammatically, were supposed to be questions, but they didn't feel like them. They felt like demands.

"I don't think I am, Katie," Emily admitted reluctantly.

"Bull-fucking-shit, you're not! I'll come get you myself if I have to! Where the fuck is Massachusetts?"

Emily put her hand on her forehead. "On the east coast of America," she sighed. "Jesus Christ, how daft are you?" Only Katie could be so upset and show her ignorance of world geography at the same time. "But that doesn't matter. Please don't come and get me. I'm quite happy here."

"Obviously you're not, or else you wouldn't have called." Emily had to smile at that—even when she was royally pissed off, Katie had an extraordinary insight into Emily's motivations and feelings. She just chose not to use it most of the time.

"No, you're right—a little," Emily admitted. "I need you to do something for me." Emily gave Katie an abridged version of the myths surrounding Naomi, Cook, and Effy, being ever so careful not to tell her that she was currently infatuated with Naomi. Emily was pretty sure that Katie was Sam's biggest fan. "I need you to find anything you can about them. Anything, even if it's just a simple sentence."

"Ems!" Katie yelled. "You disappear for two weeks, don't contact us at all, and now you call me at six in the fucking morning and ask me to research some stupid mythology for you? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, seduce a hot museum curator?" Emily suggested, half-serious.

"Oh, don't you think if those existed I'd have done that already?" Katie scoffed. There was a pause; her voice came back soft and pleading. "Look, talk to Sam, will you? Just…give her a chance."

"I can't do that, Katie," Emily said wearily. "I can't be with her anymore. Let her know I'm alright and that we really are done. Please?"

"Fine," Katie clipped. "I'll do that and your stupid research thing if you promise to call me every couple of days."

Emily twirled the cord of Cook's ridiculously ancient phone. "No Mum or Sam?" she negotiated.

"Well, duh. Just me."

"Oh, like that's any better," Emily quipped.

"Bitch."

Emily laughed softly. "Okay, okay. I'll call you, I promise."

"Great. I'm gonna go back to bed now. Some complete twat woke me up."

"Okay. Katie?"

Katie huffed loudly, creating a whoosh of static on Emily's end. "What?"

"Emsy sham."

Emily could almost see Katie smiling. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

"I love you, Katie."

"Love you, too…bitch."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: A shorter chapter, but one just in time for the holidays. A little exposition, a little back story, a little more philosophizing, and a little taste of Naomily. What more could you ask for in a present? "Merry Christmas" to those of you who celebrate, and "Happy Festivus (for the rest of us)" to those who don't.

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**

Work was a different beast for Emily after her conversation with Cook. She watched JJ surreptitiously every day, trying to see if she could spot some of the worship Cook had been talking about. Much to her dismay, she could. It was clear, once she really paid attention, that JJ had a not-so-small crush on her. Emily noticed it and checked her behavior; there was no need to encourage JJ's hopeless dream. Even if she was straight, workplace romances were never a good idea. If Naomi had been her boss instead of JJ, Emily would quit before they slept together, just to prevent any future awkwardness. Not that she was going to sleep with JJ, but the principle still stood.

And not that she was going to sleep with Naomi, either, with the way things were going. Naomi was never far from the front of Emily's mind, usually occupying the flanks or knocking lightly but ever so consistently against the inside of her temples. Emily couldn't help feeling that there was still more to discover about the blonde. There was no hope left in that book—Emily knew that instinctively. She just hoped that Katie would come through, otherwise she was in for a world of heartbreak. Sad things were going to happen; Emily wasn't stupid. It was just easier to stomach when you had a good idea of what they were. Then it wasn't so easy to completely shatter, it was just more of a gradual crumbling.

Emily tried not to focus on Naomi for too long, if only for JJ's benefit. She truly loved working with him, and she felt guilty every time she gave the shop anything less than her undivided attention.

"Fucking chicken shit!" Emily heard JJ curse from her left. She put down the books she was shelving and walked over to him.

"Problem, Jay?" she asked, craning her head.

He heaved a gigantic sigh. "Sorry, Emily. These numbers just aren't coming up right. I don't know how we got in so much debt." He rocked back in his stool and let out a slow breath.

Emily leaned down to look at his calculations. Her eyes fell on a particular number about three steps in. "Here, Jay. You misplaced a decimal point."

"What?" He leapt off the stool and looked to where Emily was pointing. "Oh, well, that's great. I feel like an idiot. I can't even do simple math. _Such_ a dimwit."

Emily put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "JJ, it's okay. You just made a mistake. Besides, it's all down to me anyway. If you hadn't added another salary into the mix, you wouldn't have to make so many calculations." Emily smiled, hoping to have assuaged JJ's worries.

"Yes, well, if I hadn't hired you I'd also be lonely." Emily locked eyes with her boss, shocked just for a second but not too shocked to see the twinkle of hope in his gaze.

"JJ, you know I'm gay, right?" she blurted tactlessly. Emily knew that JJ knew—they'd talked about it before. She just needed to make sure, needed to let him know that his hopes were misguided and unrequited. She just wished that it didn't come out of her mouth in the worst way possible. JJ was still her friend.

JJ winced and flicked his head. "Yes, I know. I've already said it doesn't matter."

"Right," Emily said. She wasn't sure what response she was expecting, but that wasn't it. "Right, well…okay. So you know. I'm gonna go back to work now."

She left JJ to finish looking over the finances as she resumed stocking the shelves. He kept looking over at her, as if he expected her to say something else. But Emily had nothing else to say. So instead, she shot him friendly smiles and yelled at herself. _What if he took them the wrong way?_ But Emily couldn't _not_ smile at him—he was her friend and she was a nice person, for fuck's sake.

Emily wondered if this was what Naomi felt like all the time, aggravated because she knew she was giving out mixed signals.

One could only hope.

* * *

"Eff? Can we talk?" Emily stood at the doorway of Effy's bedroom, hand loosely bound in a fist against the frame. She could barely see Effy, buried as deep as she was in her bedcovers. Effy didn't say anything—which wasn't a surprise, really—so Emily walked in anyway and stood facing Effy with her arms crossed.

"You look cozy," Emily said, amused. Emily tried not to smile around Effy (it scared her), but she couldn't help it this time. Effy looked like she was twelve years old, and Emily suddenly wondered what a child-Effy was like. Was she ever innocent and blissfully oblivious? Or was she always one step ahead—and lonely?

"What do you want?" Effy asked monotonously.

Emily opened her mouth to respond, then reconsidered. It was a simple question, really, but she didn't have a simple answer. It should have been easy—_I want you to explain everything to me_, or _I want you to stop treating me like I can break_, or _I just want to feel happy again_. Instead, Emily expelled a thought that hadn't even been on her radar. She didn't know what she was saying until she started to say it.

"What's it like?" she asked softly. "The sea, I mean." It was probably a silly question, and maybe Effy thought she was dumb for asking it. Emily could very well figure out for herself what the sea was like—and yet, she couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. What she was really asking Effy, when she asked about the sea, was, "What are _you_ like?" Because any answer Effy gave would tell Emily more about her mysterious roommate than about the ocean itself.

"Terrifying," Effy said, emerging from her cocoon of blankets. They were the same color as her walls; Emily felt engulfed. "It's beautiful and everything, but you start walking around when you're bored and you realize—I'm being crushed. There are forces a hundred times greater than those on Earth compressing you, just bearing down on your head and squashing you. And you can't do a thing to stop it, so you try and go higher, and once you get on land you feel free. You float up and up, and you can leap through the air; if you're lucky, you can fly. But when you're in the clouds, you reach out and you don't feel anything. You're too light, and you miss the water. You miss the walls that made you feel safe, so you go back and nestle in your prison."

Emily sat down on Effy's floor, her back resting against Effy's mattress. "And do you miss the air when you're in the water?"

"No," Effy said. Her voice was strange, almost nostalgic. "Then you miss the water."

Emily nodded as if she knew what Effy was talking about. In a primitive way, she did. She could feel the truth in Effy's words; she just didn't know why.

"What did you and Naomi do that night?" Effy inquired.

"Which?"

"The one right before."

Emily had gotten used to Effy's cryptic descriptions, and she felt more than a little proud that she could understand to which night Effy was referring. "She took me on a walk; we ended up at a restaurant and then some seedy bar."

"Was the bar in a small village sort of behind a forest?"

"Yeah, I guess." Emily had been around Effy far too long—she was no longer surprised when Effy made connections and leading comments.

She could almost see Effy's eyes twinkle with knowledge. "Interesting," was all she said.

Emily closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "Of course it is," she scoffed. She took a few deep breaths and tried to still the tornado of worries currently tearing up her mind. She focused on melting into the mattress, back first, then heart and lungs and skin. She imagined sinking so deeply into it that only her eyes stuck out, letting her watch everything that went on. Maybe then she would know a little bit about what it was like to be Effy.

"Why'd you leave, Eff?" she murmured quietly.

"I was drowning," Effy said simply.

Emily smirked and hoisted herself off the floor; her knees creaked in protest and she stretched her arms above her head, giving her back the opportunity to do the same thing. It responded with an eager crack.

Emily turned around to find Effy watching her with wide eyes, as if Emily was her elder and Effy just wanted to know the secrets of the world. Emily felt like their roles should have been reversed; Effy had lived over a million of her lifetimes. But she was missing something, and Emily felt extremely sad for her. She leaned down and gave Effy a kiss on the forehead. Effy looked up in genuine gratitude, like her favorite relative had just confirmed that Effy was the best person in the family.

Emily made her way across the room and stilled at the door. "You've still got your powers, Eff. But what would happen now if you went back down?"

Effy fixed upon her an unreadable gaze—part victorious, part smug, part fearful, part something completely unrecognizable. She smirked and cocked her eyebrows.

"I would drown."

* * *

"You've got to be cold."

Naomi turned around sharply. "I don't really feel it, to be honest. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Are you kidding? 3:47 is exactly when I like to start my days. Coffee, tea? I've got both." Emily sat herself on the beach, putting a good swatch of sand between them.

Naomi smiled. "You brought two thermoses?" Emily nodded brightly. "Of course you did. Alright, then. Hand over the tea."

Emily gave her the appropriate thermos; Naomi hummed appreciatively. "I knew you were cold," Emily teased. "Can you come back to mine tonight? I promise you can leave whenever you want. You don't even have to say goodbye." She flashed Naomi what she thought was her most winning smile.

Naomi laughed softly. "Sure, I'll come with you. But only if I get to say goodbye."

Emily felt her heart expand to monstrous proportions. "You've got a deal."

She stood up and dusted the sand off the back of her pants, barely catching herself before she did the same thing to Naomi. They chatted amicably on the short trip back; Naomi unmistakably walked as close to Emily as she could. Emily would have grabbed Naomi's left hand if it hadn't been occupied with the thermos full of tea.

Naomi plopped herself down on the couch as if she lived there, and Emily's mind immediately spawned a thousand different situations in which she and Naomi could cuddle on their own couch. Of course, these were situations wherein one of them wasn't an immortal, water-breathing, mystical creature.

"Did you want to talk about something?" Naomi asked as she curled her fingers around her mug.

Emily folded her legs underneath her body. "Yeah, actually. Effy seemed to know about that bar you took me to…?"

Naomi nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, she's been there before. Cook, too."

"I got the feeling there was something wonky about it."

Naomi bellowed a loud guffaw and immediately clamped her hand over her mouth. "Wonky?" she said incredulously.

"Yeah!" Emily defended. "You know, something weird. Something off."

"In what way?"

Emily puffed out her cheeks in thought. "I dunno…the whole night seemed like I was on some sort of acid trip. It was like we'd take two steps and go fifty miles. Where were we, anyway?"

Naomi smiled secretively, the kind of smile you get when you're about to reveal to someone the giant trick you just pulled on them. "That book doesn't tell you everything, Emily."

Emily wrinkled her brows. "What are you talking about?"

"You've read most of the book, so you've got the basics. But it doesn't go into a lot of detail about my life, about the other things you can do."

"You can do other things?" Emily asked.

"Of course I can," Naomi replied with a soft chuckle. "I'm almost a _god_, Emily. That sort of gives me license to do just about anything. The myths just tell you what I can do that others can't—other gods, I mean."

"Okay," Emily drawled, curious. "So what else can you do?"

Naomi looked at her unflinchingly with a mysterious glint in her eye. "I can bend time."

Emily almost choked on her coffee. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't look so surprised; I've just told you I can do just about anything."

"But…how?" Emily spluttered.

Naomi took a moment to consider her words, as if she was trying to put it in terms Emily could understand. "It's actually more like I can bend location, bend geography. I can make you take the same amount of steps but cover a vastly wider distance. But I do it by messing with time."

"I don't understand. You don't measure distance in units of time," Emily protested.

"How far is the beach from Cook's house?"

"About ten minutes," Emily calculated.

Naomi grinned in accomplishment. "There you go. You just measured a physical distance in minutes—a unit of time. I do the same thing. You know that saying, 'You can't step in the same river twice?' It's like that. You think you've been sitting in the same spot for the past eight minutes, but you haven't. Your location changes with every tick of the second hand."

"So when I joked that we weren't in Kansas anymore…" Emily reasoned.

"You were actually closer to Kansas than you thought. Somewhere around Kentucky, actually."

"Kentucky?" Emily blurted. "Why Kentucky?"

Naomi's eyes turned sad. "Very little water," she said quietly. She put her tea down on a table next to the couch and closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers quickly but aggressively over them. Emily's watch said it was 4:17.

"Lay down, Naoms," Emily said quietly.

Naomi looked suspiciously over at Emily, as if trying to ascertain her motives. Finding nothing of the malevolent sort, she swung her legs up onto the couch and stretched out. Emily mimicked Naomi's position and wormed her way next to (on top of was more accurate, actually) the blonde, resting her head on Naomi's shoulder. She closed her eyes when Naomi began to stroke her hair.

"Why'd you take me there?" she murmured.

Naomi's fingers stilled next to her ear. "There's more of us, a lot more than you would think. Sea-dwellers who got bored with the water and wanted something more. We tend to find each other when we settle on land. That bar's been there since before Kentucky was even a state. I go there sometimes when I need to find someone who understands."

"Someone to go home with?"

Naomi shrugged against Emily's cheek. "Just someone," she said.

"Why aren't you like Cook and Effy?" Emily mumbled.

"Go to sleep, Emily," Naomi whispered. "We'll talk later. Maybe."

Emily heeded Naomi's suggestion—she was pretty tired, after all. She nestled closer into Naomi's side; it felt good to be taken care of, for once, instead of taking care of someone else all the time. She almost fell asleep right there, but she didn't want to deny Naomi the opportunity to say goodbye.

"Naoms," Emily muttered, "why don't you ever bend time when we're together?"

Naomi traced a finger down Emily's arm. "If I ever did that," Naomi replied. "I'd never want to stop." Something uncannily like the ghost of a kiss pressed softly against Emily's head.

"Goodnight, Emily."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Won't be a long author's note as I'm literally racing my computer's battery; it is at 25% and dying quickly; I hope I can get this up in time. Enjoy and happy new year!

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**

Twice now, Emily had woken up to an empty couch that she had previously shared with someone else. Unlike the last time, however, Emily didn't wake up in fear. She didn't wake up terrified, or alone, or confused. This time, Emily woke up content. Sad that Naomi was gone again, yes, but content to know the reason why, content to know that there was a possibility she'd come back.

The clock on the table next to the couch told Emily it was just past eight o'clock, which meant that not only had Naomi left a mere three or so hours ago, it also meant that Emily was late in getting ready for work. Emily sat up and swatted at her eyes, trying to banish the sleep from them. In the end, the bright morning sun did a better job of that than she ever could.

Emily stood up and wasn't surprised to see a note on the coffee table in front of the sofa. _Don't come to the beach tonight_, it said. _I'll find you_. It brought a smile to her face—a small one, but a smile nonetheless. The promise in Naomi's words and actions cut through the fog of mystery.

Against everything—logic, common sense, Cook, Effy, even Naomi herself—Emily was beginning to hope.

* * *

JJ stayed away that day. He and Emily danced around each other, laughing and working and always keeping each other at arm's length. It surprised Emily how perceptive he was; she'd have thought that he would have continued his subtle advances. But he didn't, and Emily was grateful. It was easy, then, to go back to being his friend, to needle him for his managerial quirks, to turn her librarian humor up to 11 and relish in JJ's genuine amusement.

She had fun at work, talking to customers and joking with JJ. Effy dropped by and it didn't even feel weird. With the guarantee of another night with Naomi, Emily found herself feeling legitimately happy. She smiled at everyone and they smiled back. (Emily thought she actually saw a smile fix itself upon Effy's face, even if it didn't stay there for too long).

For all the mystery and frenzy of the past two weeks, Provincetown had never seemed so beautiful.

* * *

"Coming out tonight, Red?"

Emily looked up from the book she was reading. She smiled at Cook's eager face. "No, I don't think so, Cook. It's a night in for me."

Cook swayed in rejection. "Aw, come on, Emilio! You're young. Get the fuck out of the house and tear some shit up!"

Emily couldn't help but laugh. "It feels like I've been tearing shit up for the last two weeks of my life. I need a break."

"Ah, fine," Cook conceded. "But one of these nights you're coming out with the Cookie Monster. You haven't lived until you've spent a night with me." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Emily chuckled, half-amused, half-disgusted. "Not working tonight, then?"

"Nope!" Cook clapped his hands together. "Me and Eff are going out tonight. It's been a while. Speaking of…EFFY!" he bellowed; Emily winced. "Let's go fucking mental, babe! Get the fuck down here!"

"Always a man of tact, Cookie," Emily smirked.

"Can't help it, princess," Cook said. "I'm no bullshitter; what you see is what you get." He pounded his chest. The testosterone practically jumped off his fists.

Emily cocked an eyebrow. "Is that your line for all the ladies?"

Cook winked. "Only the ones that want to see something. Ah, there she is!" Effy materialized beside Cook; Emily hadn't even heard her come down the stairs.

"You look cozy," Effy said wryly.

"And you look ready for a night out," Emily countered. It was the most conservative way of describing Effy's attire; then again, when it came to Effy's wardrobe, 'conservative' wasn't a word one used very often. Most people knew when their roommates were out of clothes by when they did laundry. All Emily had to do was watch Effy walk and make note of what kind of underwear she was wearing.

"One last chance, Red…" Cook hinted.

Emily shook her head. "Next time, for sure, Cook. Have fun."

"Missing out, Emilio." He ushered Effy to the door.

"Don't get arrested," she said in lieu of a goodbye, figuring it was good advice considering her intended audience.

The door clicked shut quietly as they left and Emily sat still for a few seconds until she could be sure they were completely gone. When the coast was clear, Emily slid her book under the couch and tidied up the sheets. Emily hoped that Naomi would make good on her promise to come around again, and she didn't want Naomi to show up to a messy house. Considering that the first time Naomi had been over she'd been a sloppy drunk it probably didn't matter, but that didn't mean Emily didn't worry. She always worried when it came to Naomi—worried about making the right impression, about not saying something offensive. Worried about pushing Naomi away (since that seemed to be something for which Emily had an inherent and unfortunately well-developed capability).

So instead of lounging around and relying on wishful thinking to get her through the night, Emily made herself productive. She tidied up the first floor, giving a light sweep to the living room and kitchen. She cranked up the music on Cook's wonderfully tacky stereo and danced her way to cleanliness.

After about an hour, Emily felt a roll of thunder deep in her stomach. She looked at the clock and was surprised to find it was a quarter to nine; time had danced along with her, the minutes passing fluidly into each other to the beat of the music.

Hunger was a pretty good reason for putting her cleaning on hold (that and she was just about done anyway), so Emily put on a pot of water and went to the bathroom to wash off the dust she'd accumulated. She cranked up the music so she could hear it above the rush of the faucet.

Emily rummaged around in the pantry, trying to find a suitable pasta for dinner. Cook and Effy seemed to stock up on homemade, local pastas, so Emily didn't have a clue as to which ones were good. She picked up a half-empty bag of thick, hearty-looking noodles.

"Can I have some? That one's my favorite," a voice said in her ear.

Emily started violently and threw her hands in the air, scattering raw spaghetti noodles all over the floor. She quickly turned around and threw a hand over her heart when she saw Naomi standing less than a foot away from her.

"Jesus Christ, Naomi! How the hell did you get in here?"

"Don't tell me Katie doesn't have a key to your place." Naomi jangled a lonely key on a ring. "Cook had it made for me ages ago."

"Fucking sneak," Emily teased, still a little on edge. "I didn't even hear you come in."

"That's because you're too busy having your own private concert. I thought you were supposed to be able to hear music, not feel it."

Emily flashed a toothy grin. "Who says you can't do both?" The song switched to a pulse-quickening electro-pop beat, and Emily stopped what she was doing and started jumping. "I love this song!" she yelled. Naomi just stood staring at her, dumbfounded, as Emily pranced her way around the kitchen. She grabbed Naomi's hand and dragged the pair of them into the living room.

"Come on, Naomi. Dance with me!" She danced her way across the floor, alternating between graceful glides and horridly tacky fist pumps and shimmies.

Naomi eyed her skeptically. "That's not dancing," she said, her voice laced with snide judgment.

"Oh yeah?" Emily shouted over the music, "then what is?"

Naomi contemplated her answer a moment before shaking her head. "Nope, you'll laugh at me." She crossed her arms and sat steadfast on the couch.

Emily pulled her up. "Oh, come on, Naoms! It's okay to be silly when music is playing. Show me whatever you've got; I promise I won't laugh."

Naomi narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but Emily could see her giving in. She heaved a melodramatic sigh and flopped her arms before shuffling to the middle of the room. Naomi stood still for a moment and then, just as the tempo picked up, she began to dance. She clapped her hands together and flung them into the air, holding them above her head as she step-glided around the room. She added a stomp on the offbeat every few steps, punctuating each with a strange sort of bark. By the time she had completed a circle around the room, Emily was in hysterics on the floor. She could barely see she was laughing so hard.

Naomi's face morphed into an indignant glare and she stamped her foot petulantly. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"I'm sorry," Emily croaked in between guffaws. "I've just never seen anyone do an interpretive tribal dance to Dragonette before." Naomi's glare intensified. "Okay, okay. Can I teach you? Will that stop you from trying to kill me with your eyes?" Naomi didn't say anything; Emily took that as a 'yes.'

She flipped through her iPod to find a worthy song, her eyes lighting up when her shuffle landed on Cyndi Lauper. The infectious riff of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" filled the room and Emily looked over at Naomi, who was trying as hard as she could not to tap her toes.

"Look, we'll dance together, okay? This one's easy. I'll even help you." She grabbed Naomi's hands and forced the blonde to jump in time with her. Emily could see Naomi loosening up with every passing second.

"The chorus is coming up, get ready!" She let go of Naomi's hands and twirled her around, flipping her hair into a frenzy and prancing around the room as Naomi tried to navigate the tornado into which Emily had thrown her. She finally emerged and once she had found her balance again, Naomi joined Emily at the far end of the room and they skipped in chaotic patterns and laughed together. They cavorted jauntily; Emily felt light as the air which she and Naomi were currently sharing. Naomi's laugh was music to Emily's ears, harmonizing with the confident tones of the song and making the world a better place.

The song ended and Naomi stopped in place, wearing a goofy smile and breathing heavily. "Dinner time," she huffed.

Emily made to go with her, but her plans changed with the song. "The Dog Days Are Over" filled the speakers and Emily looked over at Naomi and smiled.

"Just this one more," the blonde relented, unable to say no.

Emily's smiled widened and she took Naomi's hand. They swayed together, their momentum building in time with the song. By the time the chorus hit, they were flying.

And then everything stopped. The song slowed down and Naomi landed in front of Emily, their noses almost touching, and Emily couldn't help staring. She couldn't do anything _but_ stare.

"What do we do now?" Naomi huffed, giggling.

"I don't…" Florence Welch crooned a loving plea, and Emily found herself without an answer. Not one that could be put to words, anyway. Instead, she placed her hands tenderly on Naomi's cheeks and kissed her, a strong and heartfelt kiss. She almost melted at the feeling of the blonde's lips on hers but she reigned herself in; she had to be strong for Naomi. There was no room for hesitance.

Naomi, stiff at first, gave in to Emily's touch and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss and sucking Emily into the very depths of her mouth. They were closer than ever now and it wasn't enough; Emily wanted more, she wanted everything Naomi had to give and she pushed against Naomi, trying desperately to find it. Naomi was searching, too; they searched each other and drank in the heady rush of passion and seductive exploration. Naomi was adventure; she was danger and temptation, and Emily wanted it all.

They were on the couch, that much Emily knew; her hands were attending to their own agenda, sinking into Naomi and feeling every inch of her while Emily's tongue continued to grapple with Naomi's, never wanting to pull away. She was searching for a point of satisfaction, a point where she was content to find a different way to spend her time—a point she knew would never come. Emily would never be completely satisfied with Naomi, and she hoped that wouldn't change.

Naomi's hands trailed agonizingly slowly up Emily's back, splayed wide against her spine. She raked her nails under Emily's shirt, sending a flush of heat up Emily's chest and neck; it erupted out of her mouth in a yearning moan.

And just like that, the beat was back and the spell was broken. Naomi detached herself from Emily with a pop, looking up at the redhead with an embarrassed and apologetic expression. Emily closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Naomi's, staying for just one more precious moment.

"Let's go make some pasta," Naomi said quietly, kissing Emily softly on the cheek and getting up from the couch.

"Okay," Emily whispered, her voice raw and hoarse.

* * *

"Tell me a story," Emily said as Naomi finished her dinner.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "I'm not any good at telling stories."

"Why not? You're in loads."

"Yes, but I didn't write any of those stories. I just lived them. I'm not a writer."

Emily smirked. "Talking is just writing with your mouth. Write me a story that no one's heard before. That way I won't know if it's good or absolute shit."

Naomi smiled. "Alright, but if I'm gonna tell a story I need a steaming mug of coffee and an extraordinarily comfortable couch."

"I think I can help you with that."

Emily put on a pot of coffee and they relocated to the couch when it was ready. Naomi curled against one arm of the sofa; Emily rested her head against Naomi's legs, her feet hanging off the other end.

"Once upon a time," Naomi started quietly, "there was a young girl—a princess. She wasn't a fragile princess, not by any means. She got into fights with the boys and she won all of them. She would argue politics with the men of her kingdom and shame them for not having enough conviction.

But she was quiet when she was alone, and she was alone more than you might think. You see, this princess could see everything, even invisible things. She could see future events and past discretions; she could see the demons and burdens that wore down her friends and family. It was a terribly heavy gift, but she knew that no one else would be able to handle it. They would all crack under the weight. And so the princess put her gift to use in a judicious way; she solved disputes and talked people through their problems.

It was a gift that slowly earned her enemies; the people whom she pointed out as perpetrators and liars went out of their way to discredit her name. They said she invented stories and tall tales because she wanted power and dominion over everyone else. Eventually, the princess's circle of enemies outweighed her friends, and no one came to her for assistance anymore.

Throughout all of this, the princess's mother had stood by her side. The queen had never doubted the princess for a second, always encouraging her to believe in her gift and cherish it. The queen became the princess's voice of reason, but as the princess's supporters dwindled, the queen became less certain. She withdrew from the princess and shunned her.

One day, the queen called all of her subjects to the palace and made a speech. The princess, she said, had been unfairly treated. It wasn't her fault that she had been given a gift that was impossible to control. Fortunately, the monarch said amid the yells and jeers, the queen had been given this gift herself, and she knew how to use it correctly. Her subjects cheered and flocked to her, wanting her to solve their problems.

The queen spent the rest of her days acting as counselor and mediator. The princess watched her with pleading eyes, wondering if her mother would ever love her the same again. She knew the queen was abusing her power; she showed people what they wanted to see, not what she actually saw. The queen was a beloved ruler and mother, and her daughter retreated into solitude and silence. The end," Naomi ended feebly.

Emily's heart had fallen continually throughout Naomi's story; it landed in her feet and made them unbearably heavy. "Naomi…" she whined.

"I told you I was never good at telling stories," Naomi said with a sad smile.

Emily reached her hand up and poked around to find Naomi's. When she did, she grasped it tightly and gave it a meaningful squeeze. "You're not alone, Naoms," she said softly, meaning every word (and then some).

Naomi merely hummed noncommittally in response.

"I'd better go," she said, sitting up slowly.

"You're not staying?" Emily blurted. "But…" She trailed off, unable to come with a reason for Naomi to stay other than she wanted her to.

Naomi smiled a small and genuine smile. "If I don't leave right now, I don't know if I'll be able to in time."

Emily nodded in reluctant acceptance. "Okay," she whispered. She walked Naomi to the door; they both stopped awkwardly upon reaching it, not knowing how to say goodbye.

"I'll see you around, Emily," Naomi murmured. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob.

"Naomi, wait," Emily quickly cut in. "I—"

Naomi cut her off. "I know, Emily. It's okay." She smiled and clasped Emily's hand. "You said it all already."

Emily tightened her grip on Naomi's hand, preventing her from leaving for as long as she could. "Yeah, but…" She flicked her eyes up to Naomi's and held her breath. "But can I say it once more?"

Naomi's eyes twinkled and she closed the gap between her and Emily. "Maybe just one more time," she said with a smile.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I've found the secret to motivating me to write. It's a four hour bus ride between school and home, so if you want speedier updates, give me $74 and I'll get right on that. I had a lot of fun writing this one, due in large part to the last three pages. Also, I meant to make the flashback a lot shorter, but it just sort of kept going. So, you know. Enjoy.

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**

"I see you were productive while we were out last night."

Emily opened her eyes, no longer surprised to see Effy sitting on the arm of the couch, watching her.

Emily smacked her lips, trying to get rid of her dry mouth. "Yeah, I guess I felt like cleaning. How was your night?"

Effy shrugged. "Just a night. Cook got trashed and almost started a fight."

"And you?"

Effy's eyes were unreadable and guarded. "I watched him almost get beat up." She slunk off the couch and picked an empty mug off the coffee table. "Spend the night alone?"

Emily knew it was pointless to lie to Effy, but she decided to try anyway. "Yeah, I cleaned for a bit then popped in a movie. It was a quiet night."

Effy quirked her eyebrow. "Your lipstick is smudged," she said, carrying the mug into the kitchen. "Tell Naomi she owes me a pack of noodles; those are my fucking favorite, too."

* * *

"_I know, Emily. It's okay. You said it all already."_

"_Yeah, but…but can I say it once more?"_

_Naomi's smile was almost devilish as she walked toward Emily. "Maybe just one more time." She slipped her hands into Emily's back pockets as she leaned in for a kiss; Emily retaliated by tangling her hands through Naomi's hair. _

_Naomi's lips were heaven; they were soft and inviting, warm, the sweetest thing Emily had ever tasted. They trailed kisses down Emily's neck, pressing down on her collarbone as she leaned her head back. Not for long, though—Emily's mouth was lonely. She pulled Naomi back up for a searing kiss, one that stole her breath and made her stomach churn._

"_I have to go," Naomi said. Emily could tell she didn't really mean it, so she didn't stop kissing her._

"_You don't have to do anything," Emily murmured. "It's barely even midnight. That gives us…"_

_Naomi moaned as Emily bit lightly on her lower lip. "Five hours," she gasped. _

"_Just about," Emily said. She slid Naomi's sweater off, exposing her pale, perfect shoulders. Emily wanted to kiss every part of Naomi—shoulders, fingers, knees, palms. She wanted to cherish Naomi, show her every day how not to be afraid. "Stay with me," she pleaded. She slipped her hand under Naomi's t-shirt, fingers skimming gently over her soft skin._

"_I will," Naomi whispered. She placed her hands on Emily's shoulders and pushed her away kindly. "But only for a little while, and only if you promise to just talk."_

_Emily hesitated a moment before blushing and smiling sheepishly. "Fine," she agreed. "We'll just talk."_

"_Great." Naomi grabbed her hand and guided her up the stairs. _

"_What are you doing?" Emily asked. She'd never really been upstairs except to talk to Effy. It still felt a little like it was off-limits._

"_I want to show you something." Naomi took a right at the top of the stairs, walking toward a wall._

"_Naoms, this is a dead end."_

_Naomi stopped at the wall and grinned. "Actually," she said, lifting a finger, "it's not. Observe." She bent down and knocked on the baseboard, looking for a specific spot. Nothing happened until she ventured left, her knock producing a hollow thud. She smiled and lifted up a small plank of the wood and pressed the button it concealed. The wall sunk in about four inches and hissed before sliding back to reveal another passageway._

"_Are you shitting me?" Emily blurted. "This house honestly has a secret passage?"_

_Naomi laughed. "Ems, you have to understand that Cook moved here when he was 20—in human years, at least. Ex-demigod or not, every twenty-year-old boy wants to be a spy."_

_It was pretty cool, though Emily would never admit it to Naomi. "Whatever," she said. "Where does it go?"_

_Naomi grabbed hold of Emily's hand once again. "Suivez-moi." Emily shot Naomi a bewildered look. Naomi rolled her eyes. "Follow me." She tugged on Emily's arm and led her up a staircase._

_They ended up on the roof, lying on a sleeping bag tucked away in a corner. "So what are you going to show me?" Emily asked._

"_The stars."_

"_I've seen the stars a million times."_

_Naomi sighed. "Yes, but not like this." She turned her head to look at Emily. "Maybe I'm shit at telling stories, but I've always been good at showing them. So let me tell you a story with the stars."_

_For reasons unknown, Emily found there were tears gathering in her eyes. "Okay," she nodded. "What are we starting with—Orion? The Big Dipper?"_

_Naomi laughed. "No. These are stars you haven't seen before, or at least ones that don't have names." She pointed to a space of sky somewhere to the right. "Do you see that really tiny white one?"_

"_Naomi, they're _all_ really tiny white ones," Emily retorted, just barely containing a "duh!"_

"_No, look. Okay, there's a really big one with three little stars in a line next to it, yes?" Emily searched where Naomi was pointing and nodded when she saw the configuration. "Okay, go down and a little to the left of that and you've got a sort of sunburst pattern with a star in the middle."_

"_This is making my eyes dizzy," Emily complained._

"_Do you see what I'm talking about?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Okay. Zoom out a little until you can see an oval shape."_

"_I'm not a camera, Naomi."_

"_Oh, you humans have no imagination," Naomi said in frustration. "Right, remember where you were looking and close your eyes." Emily did as instructed. She felt Naomi place a hand on her forehead. "You're looking for an oval," she said smoothly. "It comes to a point at both ends; inside is the sunburst pattern." Her voice was enchanting, and Emily felt herself slipping into a trance. "The sunburst pattern has eight jagged edges; they stick out at all angles and lengths, while still staying within the oval. Inside the sunburst pattern is a small star. It is the brightest out of all of them. Okay?"_

"_Yes," Emily said dreamily._

_Naomi removed her hand from Emily's forehead. "Open your eyes."_

_Emily's eyes flew open and sought out the place where the constellation was, and suddenly it was bright and clear, shining amidst a million other stars just like it._

"_It's an eye," she said quietly._

_Naomi nodded. "My granddad put it up there a few years after Effy was born. He said that he'd made a constellation for Cook and my mum, so it was only right to make one for her, too. If I ever got lost on land at night, that was always the one thing I could find."_

"_It almost looks like it's watching you," Emily said. "Fitting." Naomi hummed her agreement. "What's Cook's?"_

"_Are you going to try to find it this time? I mean, really try?"_

"_Of course."_

"_Okay. Way to the left of Effy's there's a group of stars clustered really closely together. They almost look like one giant star."_

"_Got it."_

"_Look up until you see a little claw. That's the bottom part of Cook's."_

_Emily found it and screwed her eyes out of focus, trying to find the bigger picture. It was a little like trying to decipher one of those "Magic Eye" images. _

"_A bird?" she guessed._

"_A dove," Naomi corrected._

"_A dove," Emily repeated skeptically. "How is Cook's constellation a dove? Doves are symbols of peace and purity."_

_Naomi shook her head. "But that's not all they are. Doves can be exceedingly stupid sometimes. Did you know they can't exist in the wild? They don't have the ability to fear their predators. They can't even tell which foods will kill them. Doves can only truly thrive in captivity."_

_Emily still wasn't buying it. "Yes, but Cook is the very definition of wild. He's not a caged animal."_

"_If Effy wasn't living with him, he'd be dead by now, Emily," Naomi said quietly. "When Freddie was still alive, Cook never went out without his best friend to look after him. Now he never goes out without Effy. She's his jailer. Cook keeps the best part of himself—the pure part, the peace-seeking part—locked up deep inside him, and Effy's always there to make sure it stays buried and safe. She keeps her eye on it all the time."_

"_What's your constellation?" Emily asked quietly, a little wary of the answer._

"_I don't have one," Naomi mumbled. "My grandfather never got around to making me one."_

"_Why, what happened?"_

"_There was a—never mind. It was my mother's fault." The hurt in Naomi's voice was unmistakable, and Emily knew she shouldn't push any further. Instead, she laced her fingers with Naomi's and drew the blonde closer to her._

"_Maybe he'll make one for you someday," Emily said, kissing Naomi's temple. _

"_I wouldn't ever see it," Naomi said. _

_Something in the tone of her voice struck an odd chord with Emily. "What do you mean?"_

_Naomi shook her head. "Nothing. I just stopped trying to find my constellation ages ago."_

"Emily."

JJ's voice jolted Emily out of her reverie. "What?"

"Tom's been trying to buy this book for the past twenty minutes. You've scanned his purchase—" he looked at the register and counted quickly "—thirty seven times. He just needs the one."

Emily blushed and voided the transaction. "Oh, sorry. Got a bit distracted." She rang up the book and handed it back to Tom, who left the store looking at Emily with concern.

"Are you okay, Emily?" JJ asked. "You've been out of it all day."

Emily smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind."

JJ studied Emily's face. "All good things, I hope." Emily nodded, trying not to blush too much. "Look, why don't you take the rest of the day off. Calm yourself down a little."

It was an excessive solution, Emily knew that; she wasn't feeling sick or anything. But she still couldn't help taking JJ up on his offer.

"Thanks, Jay," she said sincerely. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Get some rest or something. I presume that's what you need; it's a common remedy for flu or cold symptoms or anything of the like, so it seems fairly applicable in this case, though you don't seem to have a fever or any type of debilitating sinus congestion—"

"Later, JJ," Emily said, cutting him off.

* * *

"So anyway, I said to Devon, 'I'm not like that, babes; you can't expect me to just fuck you on the first date. At least give me a pill or something.' And then he just walked away. I mean, what kind of guy refuses a fuck?"

"The good kind?" Emily suggested quietly.

"Oh, what do you know, lezzer?" Katie spat. "Anyway, what's going on stateside? Any good clubs?"

"I wouldn't know, Katie; it's not really my scene."

Katie huffed. "Well, of course it's not; you're missing the best wingman ever."

Emily had to laugh—for all of her arrogance, Katie actually was great at helping Emily score. She never guided women directly to Emily, but she had an uncanny ability to pick a certain type of pair out of the crowd. It consisted of a good-looking guy, usually one with rippling muscles and a charming smile, and his best girl friend—intriguing in terms of looks and sexually ambiguous. Back in college and university, Emily had gone through a…promiscuous would probably be the best way to put it. It was a period of about a year and a half where she bedded as many women as she could just _because_ she could. Sam had saved her; it wasn't like Emily had gotten to rock bottom—nowhere near that—but it was a point of indifference, which was almost worse.

"Yeah, I guess. Mostly I just work and hang out with Cook and Effs."

"Who the fuck are they?"

"Oh, um, my roommates?" Emily knew that Katie would think her current living situation was weird—Katie had always berated her for her trusting nature. But Emily also knew that Katie would like Cook and Effy, so she wasn't too worried. "I sort of stumbled into Cook at the bar that first night."

"And you went home with him? For fuck's sake, Emily!"

"Oh, don't give me that, Katie. It's not like I was gonna sleep with him."

"Yeah, but he could have tried something on with you, Ems. You can't just go home with some random guy."

"Oh, okay. Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle."

"Ugh, whatever. Who's Effy? Is she his girlfriend?"

"No, his sister."

"_Weird_, who lives with their sister?"

"Um, you did, before I met Sam."

Katie huffed. "It's not the same, Ems. What are they like?"

"What do you care?" Emily retorted.

"Uh, you're my _sister?_ I'm, like, supposed to care."

Emily fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Cook is…he's a bit of a wild card. Really hyper and a bit of a prankster. From some of the stories Eff has told me, he's no stranger to trouble. Or women. Sometimes both."

"And Effy?" Katie sounded so strict that for a moment, Emily thought she was talking to her mother.

"Well, _Mum_, she's a bit of a mystery. Doesn't really talk much, but you can tell that she knows just about everything."

"They sound familiar…" Katie said shrewdly.

Emily frowned. "I can't imagine why; I wouldn't compare them to anyone at home."

"No, they sound like those weirdos, Belli…Bellicockus or whatever?"

Emily was stunned—she'd never told Katie that the characters from the myths were real. She also didn't expect Katie to actually remember anything about the myths or volunteer any information about them. "Wha…It's Bellicatus, but how did you remember that?"

"I got interested," Katie muttered reluctantly. "I found a guy at some museum who actually had the text and he let me read them. Fuckload more interesting than your versions."

"Katie, I don't…" Emily was without words. She had never even entertained the idea that Katie might actually get invested in this project.

"Yeah, did you read the story about when Bellicatus started a riot at Audemensus's party? Apparently he started singing, pissed off some noble merman…"

"There's _more?_ Katie, you found more stories?"

"Of course I did, Ems. You asked me to," Katie scoffed.

Emily gripped the phone in a vice. "Arnithusia. Did you find anything out about Arnithusia?"

"The truth-seer?"

"Yes," Emily immediately responded.

Katie sighed. "Well, she gets a little murky. There's not much about her, but she didn't seem to be too interesting anyway. At least Audemensus was a bit of a rebel."

"Katie!"

"Okay, okay," Katie sighed. "Well, there was a little more that I found about that deal that Epithumiandra made. You know, the consequences or whatever."

"So what are they?"

"There was a prophecy made before Arnithusia was born, one that Epithumiandra only heard after her birth."

"Katie." Emily gritted her teeth. "What did it say?"

"Why are you so worried?"

"Let's just say that these people are real and my friends."

"What the hell, Ems! I was just kidding before."

"Yeah, well, I'm not. Just tell me what it said."

"How can you be okay with this! They're freaks; they're, like, a gazillion years old! How can you live with them?"

"Katie, what the _fuck_ did the prophecy say?"

Katie paused for a moment; she seemed to actually be considering what she was about to say. Emily had a feeling that wasn't a good sign.

"You're not going to like it."

"Just tell me what it fucking said."

"This Arnithusia, is she a friend of yours?"

"Her name's Naomi, but yes."

"A good friend?"

"Getting to be."

"How good?"

"_Katie!_"

Katie sighed. "Okay. I get it. You're really not going to like it."

Emily's stomach dropped.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Don't think I'm mean when I say this, but the reviews for last chapter TOTALLY made me laugh. They were hysterical. And with that out of the way, let me say a preemptive "I'm sorry" for this chapter. It'll work out, my avid readers. Just might take a while to get there.

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**

"Promise me you won't get mad at me, Ems." Katie's lisp became more pronounced proportionate to her levels of anxiety. Right now, her lisp was reaching new heights.

"Stall any longer and I won't be able to keep that promise," Emily clipped.

Katie sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I don't have the whole prophecy. I _will_ tell you what I know; calm the fuck down," she said over Emily's quick protests. "There was an imbalance once Epithumiandra took Arnithusia's power; Arnithusia started to get weaker. Epithumiandra tried to go to her dad to fix it, but her mum (that _bitch_) told her there was nothing she could do. I tried, Emsy, I tried to find the whole text of the prophecy, but I don't think it exists anymore. All I could find was one little snippet that said, 'That which she creates will destroy her.'"

Emily's heartbeat slowed down a little. "That sounds like it's talking about Epithumiandra, though, not Nao—Arnithusia."

"That's what I said," Katie responded indignantly, "but the museum guy I was talking to sounded worried. He said that their main mythology guy, the one who studied myths from all over the world or whatever, he was really interested by this particular set of stories."

"Why?"

"Well, the main guy, he just died, but Kevin—that's the one who's been helping me, kind of a loser. Tries not to look at my tits every time I say something, and he could be cute if he'd stay away from the pleated pants—"

"Katie…"

"Right, so anyway, Kevin said that the guy who died sort of made these myths his life's project. He thought they had more modern implications than any other myths he'd encountered, and judging by your freaky little friends, he was right."

"The prophecy, Katie. What else do you know about the prophecy?"

"Don't…don't laugh at me, okay?" Katie suddenly sounded small and unsure. "I did some research on prophecies because I didn't understand what Kevin was telling me, and I sort of got carried away."

Emily had to stifle a chuckle. "I'm not going to laugh at you, Katie. I'm actually rather…impressed."

"Whatever. Prophecies are predictions, right? They're made either to warn someone about something that will affect just their life, or they're about massive future events that concern the whole world. They're not always clear, either; sometimes they're like riddles that you have to figure out. But once you do, their message is pretty clear: 'Do this, or something bad will happen,' or 'Don't do this, or something bad will happen.'"

"Okay, so what's so different about this prophecy?"

"Well, we don't know a lot about it because we don't have the whole thing, but there have been other prophecies made in other myths about this set of gods and they were almost all alike. They serve the same function as prophecies you see other places, but they have a different format. They're bifurcated prophecies."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they have two or more possible forks; they have options. Like, if I made a prophecy about you, about your clothes or whatever, I could say, "Your hideous oversized cardigan will cause you to lose friends." But if I made that a bifurcated prophecy, I'd say, "If Emily wears her disgusting cardigan, her friends will no longer want to speak to her. If Emily doesn't wear her ghastly cardigan, her friends will make fun of her for looking sloppy and incomplete.""

"Thanks, Katie."

"It really is a terrible sweater, Ems. Can I get rid of it for you?"

"No. So these bifurcated prophecies, do they ever have good consequences?"

Katie paused for a moment. "No. Not for the one they're made about, anyway."

"But this one sounds like it's made about Naomi's mum, not Naomi."

"Who's Naomi? Oh, right. They have human names? That's so weird. But like I was saying, we don't have the whole picture. We don't know what the forks are."

Emily was barely listening. The way she saw it, Naomi was no longer in danger and life was okay again. "Yes, but it's only Epithumiandra who might die, not Naomi."

"Oh, like that's okay," Katie scoffed. "Real nice, Ems."

Emily blushed. "No, I'm only saying that I don't know Naomi's mum. I mean, it's terrible, but it's just someone I've only heard of who might die, not someone I…not my friend."

Katie heaved a sigh. "You weren't listening to the prophecy, though. It said 'That which she creates will destroy her.' Eventually, Naomi's going to kill her mum. Is _that_ okay with you, being 'friends' with a murderer?"

Emily's face fell as the full meaning of Katie's words hit her. She thought of Cook, and how JJ believed him to be a killer. It shouldn't be easy to be friends with someone who might have done something terrible, but that shadow of a doubt overruled everything. "You don't know her, Katie," she said quietly.

"I know that she doesn't sound good for you, Ems. Come back to Sam," she said forcefully.

"I can't," Emily whispered.

"Of course you can't," Katie retorted snidely. "You're being completely…for fuck's sake, Emily, can you come back to me?" she yelled.

"Katie…" Emily whined.

"Right." Katie's voice was hard. "Stay there long enough and I _will_ come down to get you."

"Katie, you don't have to…"

"Of course I have to, Ems," Katie interrupted. "I'm your fucking sister, okay?" She paused; Emily could imagine her composing herself. "Call me in a couple of days."

"Okay," Emily agreed.

"You don't and I'll come there myself."

"Bye, Katie."

* * *

Emily waited for Effy to get home; it was all she could do, really. It wasn't dark yet and she couldn't exactly go back to work when JJ had told her to stay away. So instead she sat. She sat and wondered why Naomi hadn't told her anything about her mum—they'd talked about family often enough. Then again, Naomi wasn't really obligated to tell Emily anything. Besides, how was she supposed to sneak it into a conversation? "Oh, by the way, Emily, some oracle made a prophecy when I was born that I might kill my mother. Do you want me to show you that tiny bar in the secluded forest again?"

Then the thought occurred to Emily—maybe Naomi didn't know about the prophecy. _Oh, God,_ she thought, _I have to tell her. She has to know_. Of course, she could see that conversation blowing up in her face as well. "Hey, Naoms. So my sister's been reading up on your past and she found this prophecy that predicts you're going to murder your mother. Would you like to come over for more pasta?"

Emily didn't know what to do—on the one hand, there was the possibility of alienating Naomi by forcing her to reveal something she wanted to keep secret. Down that path lay hurt for both Emily and Naomi. On the other hand, she might freak the fuck out of Naomi and send her into a spiraling depression. It didn't seem like a win-win situation as far as Emily was concerned.

"Penny for your thoughts," Effy said from behind her.

Emily turned around and smiled sadly. "Hey, Eff."

"You're home early," Effy observed.

"Yeah, JJ sent me home. Said I looked sick."

"That's not the reason you came home, though."

Emily threw all caution to the wind. "Please tell me more about Naomi, Effy."

Effy clenched her jaw, and Emily prepared herself to be yelled at. What came out instead was, "Depends on what you want to know."

Emily tried to shift her expression from a stunned look of surprise to a composed and curious gaze. She had a feeling Effy wasn't convinced. "There was a prophecy made before Naomi was born…" she said leadingly.

Effy nodded. "Yeah. I know it."

Emily opened her mouth to ask another question, then reconsidered her words. "Is it—should I take it literally?"

Something sparked in Effy's eyes, like Emily had just asked the magic question that would clue her in to the right answers. "No," she said with a smirk.

Emily felt a weight lift from her chest. It felt like a balloon took her heart from her throat and placed it safely in the sky, where it could beat freely and without fear. "So Naomi isn't going to kill your mum," she sighed. "That's a relief."

"The prophecy never said anything about killing, Emily. Just destroying," Effy countered softly.

"Yes, but…"

"You should check your sources, Emily," Effy smirked, as if she knew. Of course she knew.

"For fuck's sake, Eff, is your mum going to die?"

Effy stared at her for a long, agonizing minute. "I don't know," she finally said. "That's something you'll have to ask Naomi."

"Why?"

"Only she can tell you, not me."

"Yeah, but how—"

"She's coming over tonight. Don't fall asleep."

* * *

Effy was right, as usual. She'd gone upstairs after their conversation; around midnight, Emily thought she heard the slight hiss of a wall opening up. She considered going up there to join Effy while she watched the stars, but she didn't want to intrude. She'd already pushed her luck with Effy as far as it would go tonight.

And in any event, there was a knock at the door about twenty minutes later. Emily inhaled deeply before answering, steeling herself against whatever kind of mood Naomi might be in so she could just plow in and get the answers she so desperately sought.

But she wasn't prepared for a smiling Naomi, a happy Naomi who looked freer and more at peace than Emily had ever seen her. The Naomi that confronted her at the door was a Naomi with flowers, one who thought she had surprised the redhead, one who gave her a quick peck on the lips as she invited herself into the house. Emily wasn't a stranger to Naomi's mood swings; she understood that the blonde could go from happy to hostile in under a second. Emily just hadn't realized that, even though she thought she'd witnessed it at least three times, she'd never seen Naomi truly happy. It threw her for a loop, almost made her reconsider her objective—definitely made the pool of guilt in her stomach churn even more when she decided not to.

"You seem…happy tonight," Emily said carefully.

Naomi smiled widely. "Of course I am. I'm with you, aren't I?" Her smile fell as she took in Emily's wide and fearful eyes. "Are you not…should I not be here? I can go if you like."

Emily immediately shook her head. "No, no, I want you to stay. I'm really glad you're here." She stepped closer to Naomi and kissed her, pressing them together harder than she'd intended. It was a desperate kiss, an apology for what Emily was about to do.

Naomi smiled against her lips. "That was more of the welcome I was hoping for."

Emily pulled away and put on her best "I'm sorry" face. "We need to talk," she said firmly.

Naomi sighed. "You know, I've lived longer than just about every creature on this planet. I've visited every continent in the world, even when they were all one giant landmass; I've been to every country, seen every culture, spoken every language—and yet nothing scares me more than those four words. They never mean anything good."

Emily took a deep breath and sat them both down on the couch. "I was talking to my sister today. I had her do some research about you guys. I'm sorry if that's overstepping a line, but I think Eff messed up the book for good and I just wanted to know more about you. She came across this prophecy that was made before you were born. Do you know it?" She rushed the last question, eager to know Naomi's answer. She wasn't sure which option would be better, a yes or a no. They both had frightening implications.

"There's a lot more to that prophecy than you think, Emily," Naomi said in lieu of a response.

Emily felt her heartbeat increase. "So explain it to me." Naomi set her jaw, and Emily could tell she was about to tell Emily to fuck off. "Please, Naomi," she begged, "I already know a part of it and it doesn't sound good, and I just don't want to be scared for you anymore."

It was now Naomi's turn to look apologetic, and the sincerity in her eyes made Emily's heart fall from its safe place in the clouds. "If I tell you what the prophecy says, you'll only be scared for me more," she whispered.

"Tell me anyway," Emily said, her heart pounding.

Naomi sucked in a breath. "You have to understand, Emily, that my powers are special. There's only supposed to be one person who wields them in the entire world, and that was me until my mother appealed to my grandmother. We coexisted peacefully for a while, but eventually the laws of nature caught up to us."

"What happened?"

"I got sick," Naomi said. "Really sick, too sick for my mum to heal, but not sick enough to die. I couldn't die, anyway; my father was the moon. I was descended from a god, supposed to be immortal. It was agony those first few weeks. I was in total misery and no one could help me. My mother tried to talked to my grandfather and ask him for help, but my grandmother wouldn't let him. She told my mother about the prophecy that was made before I was born."

"Please, Naomi," Emily whispered; her voice crackled with a desire to know everything. "Please tell me what it said."

Naomi looked at her with sorrow-filled eyes. "'When the one who knows all is born,'" she recounted flatly, "'the creator must make a choice: concede her reign, or take that which is not hers. Choose the first and she will live her days in subservient peace, never to reign as ruler. If she chooses the latter, death is waiting. That—'"

"'—which she creates will destroy her,'" Emily finished. "Naoms, what does that mean?" she asked desperately.

"It means we can't exist at the same time if we both have the same power."

"So…your mum's going to die?" Emily asked cautiously.

Naomi folded her legs under her body and scooted backwards into the couch cushions. "I love my mum more than anything in this world, Emily. She was my only friend growing up; she was always there for me and she understood me in a way no one else even tried to. She tried to keep the prophecy a secret from me, to protect me, but Effy found out and told it to me, word for word."

Tears were streaming down Naomi's cheeks. Naomi didn't even recognize them; she just let them fall from her eyes and off her chin, pooling on the sofa and darkening the fabric. "I went crazy. I yelled at Effy for lying, even though I knew she wasn't. I told her she was playing a terrible trick on me and it wasn't funny, and then I went crying to my mum. She looked at me and she was terrified, and I just knew; I knew that Effy was right and things were horrible and I was about to lose my best friend."

Naomi grabbed Emily's hand, squeezing it for all she was worth, and hiccupped through her tears. "She was the one person who knew me, and I was about to lose her. I couldn't stand it. I yelled at my grandmother and tried to reason with her, tried to get her to take away my mum's powers, or my powers—anything for both of us to be happy and alive."

"But…" Emily prompted.

Naomi looked at Emily with pain in her eyes, in every inch of her being. It was radiating from her in waves, and Emily wanted to wince just from the sensations she was feeling. "But she wouldn't budge." Naomi choked back a cough and steeled her gaze. "So I made her a trade. It was the only trade I could think of, and she accepted."

"What was it?" Emily asked. She didn't really want to know.

Naomi let go of Emily's hands and scooted backwards, putting distance between them. Her voice, when it finally came, was almost inaudible.

"I'm dying, Emily."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Well, those were some fun reviews. Truly sorry for upsetting you, my lovelies, but that was the plan right from the start. If you know anything about swan songs, the very title was a clue that happiness was not a given for our favorite couple. As for this chapter, um, nothing really happens? Lots of conversations, a lengthy flashback, and, by popular demand, the return of the myths! I have to give thanks to Vangoghgurrl and Lazy_boo for proofreading the first draft of this latest installment****; hopefully, it's up to snuff now that I've tweaked it. Anyway, gear up for intense revelations and maybe some tear-filled smoochies. (Look, I told you this wasn't going to be happy). Enjoy regardless!

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**

_Happiness did not last for Epithumiandra and her daughter. As Epithumiandra grew stronger, Arnithusia grew weaker. Her powers diminished with each passing day, and her face lost its luster. She took on a sickly façade, one that Epithumiandra could not heal, however much she tried. She began to grow worried for her daughter; not that she might die, for she was the daughter of a god, but that she might be doomed to a life of misery like Epithumiandra had. _

_Epithumiandra appealed to her father, the kind and doting moon who had always supported her. "Father Moon, my daughter is your daughter, too. I cannot bear to watch her grow unwell, this beautiful child of your creation. Can you help her?"_

_Parakalus began to answer but Cruenterrex interrupted with a snide, triumphant cackle. "Your foolish father cannot help you, daughter. I tried to tell you of the dangers of acquiring your child's power, but you would not listen. There was a prophecy made before her birth, one that you were too stubborn to hear."_

_Fear paralyzed Epithumiandra's heart. "What did this prophecy say?"_

_Cruenterrex's voice boomed in Epithumiandra's chest, vibrating every inch of her body. "When the one who knows all is born, the creator must make a choice: concede her reign, or take that which is not hers. Choose the first and she will live her days in subservient peace. If she chooses the latter, death is waiting. That which she creates will destroy her."_

o+o+o+o+o

_Arnithusia was a happy child. Fragile, yes, but warm and kind, and so open when she was around her mother. Epithumiandra doted on Arnithusia as she had not with her other children; she gave her youngest daughter everything she needed—playthings, books, teachers. Arnithusia seemed to have a thirst for knowledge that was absent from her brother and sister, and it was only compounded once her powers began to manifest. Epithumiandra came to value her as an equal rather than a daughter, and even in the darkest of times they would find each other and hold fast to their hope._

_Arnithusia grew older; rather than growing apart from her mother, she clung even harder, terrified of the harsh words and actions of her fellow citizens. She shied away from her siblings, finding Bellicatus to be too crude; Audemensus carried an air of mystery and superiority that Arnithusia found to be unnecessarily exhausting. Arnithusia rarely left her mother's side._

_One particular day, Epithumiandra was away from her daughter, settling disputes between landowners and healing sick children. Arnithusia had grown weary of her caretakers and resorted to amusing herself with a herd of seahorses, laughing as their tails twitched when she tickled their underbellies. She was so engaged in bringing even a small amount of pleasure to this aquatic family that she didn't hear Audemensus walk up behind her._

"_Would you like to know something interesting?" Audemensus asked slyly._

_Arnithusia didn't turn around. "Leave me be, sister," she said, still attending to her seahorses._

"_It concerns Mother," Audemensus said in lieu of a reply. Arnithusia turned to look at her sister; Audemensus's eyes burned through her body. _She's dying._ Audemensus's thoughts screamed in her brain._

"_You lie," Arnithusia said confidently._

_Audemensus smirked. _Let me show you_, she said with her eyes. Arnithusia locked eyes with her sister; she saw images flying against the backdrop of terrifying words and sentences Audemensus was conveying to her, images of crowns and tears, of icy glares and estranged relatives. Images of destruction, of death._

When the one who knows all is born, the creator must make a choice: concede her reign, or take that which is not hers. Choose the first and she will live her days in subservient peace. If she chooses the latter, death is waiting. That which she creates will destroy her.

_Arnithusia broke her gaze, unable to bear one more second of Audemensus's penetrating stare. She fled as fast as she could, relying on her intuition to locate her mother. She stumbled across the seafloor, sinking into the sand. Arnithusia called for Epithumiandra, desperate to find answers._

"_Mother!" she yelled. "Mother, where are you?"_

_She stopped in a barren expanse of sea to catch her breath; Epithumiandra emerged from behind a colossal sea anemone. "What is it, my daughter? Why are you so upset?"_

"_Mother, I have been talking with Audemensus. She shared with me a prophecy, one that foretold of something terrible…is it true?"_

_Epithumiandra paused for just a second, as if weighing her words. Arnithusia didn't need to hear any more. She couldn't bear to hear her mother say the words that would doom her to a mortal fate. Instead, she ran back to find her sister._

_Audemensus was waiting for her exactly where Arnithusia had left her. She was wiggling her fingers near the mouth of the smallest seahorse. Arnithusia could hear it burble a laugh._

"_You shouldn't lie, sister. It does not become you," Arnithusia said angrily._

"_Then it is a good thing I am not in the habit of lying," Audemensus replied. "I thought you would be happy. Now you can step in as ruler."_

"_I never wanted to rule, and you know that. Please stay out of my affairs, Audemensus. This conversation is over," she said, storming away. _

"_Where are you going?" Audemensus shouted after her._

"_To save my mother," Arnithusia shot back._

"_You will not succeed!" Audemensus yelled. Arnithusia ignored her._

_The temple was empty when she got there; the statue of Epithumiandra that had been constructed several millennia ago was crumbling. Her mother's marble head rested on a cracked toe._

"_Grandmother! Grandmother Earth! I need to speak with you!"_

_Arnithusia's hair swirled around her face, sticking to her lips and nose. A tornado of bubbles erupted to her right; out of the effervescent flurry her grandmother's disembodied head emerged. _

"_You must have a good reason for contacting me, my child. I have other things to do with my time. What is it that you need?"_

"_Change the prophecy," Arnithusia said forcefully. "You cannot allow my mother to die."_

"_Prophecies cannot be changed," Cruenterrex's voice boomed. "Your mother's fate was decided when she took your powers. Only you were meant to have them. Epithumiandra's foolish greed condemned her to a mortal death. I will do nothing to change that."_

"_She is your daughter!" Arnithusia yelled. "You must save her!"_

"_I must do nothing," Cruenterrex replied. "I answer to no higher power; I am the supreme ruler. You cannot change my mind."_

"_Take the powers away from her," Arnithusia pleaded. "She can survive without them. Please!"_

"_It is too late for that. Your mother's fate was decided long ago."_

"_Then you can have mine. I have no need for them if it means my mother has to die."_

"_You will not succeed in swaying me, child! What has been foretold shall come to pass."_

"_There must be another way!" Arnithusia cried desperately. "I cannot survive without her!"_

"_There is no way to save her," Cruenterrex said coldly._

"_Take me instead," Arnithusia said impulsively. "Let me die in her place. If I do that, will you spare her?"_

"_Yes." Cruenterrrex's words reverberated throughout her body._

_Arnithusia sunk to her knees and sobbed._

Emily handled the crumpled pages gingerly; she was afraid that if she gripped them too tightly, if she left thumb marks in the rough brown paper, the words would disappear. And if the words went away, then Emily wouldn't have a connection to Naomi, she wouldn't have a way to save her. If Naomi had gone out of her way to save her mother, Emily could do the same. She wasn't going to die for her; that would defeat the purpose of the whole thing.

No, Emily was going to live for Naomi, and she was going to make sure Naomi lived, too.

She had found the pages at the foot of the couch when she woke up. They were received with alacrity, if only because they were a welcome distraction from her troubled dreams. Emily couldn't shake the cloud of hopelessness that seemed to be hanging over her head; all she could do was stand still and let it wash over her—deluge her, even.

Things with Naomi hadn't exactly gone her way.

* * *

"_I'm dying, Emily."_

_Emily's heart stopped for one terrifying moment—and then it exploded. Someone reached into her chest and squeezed it until it popped; they must have, because surely it was leaking all over her insides, infecting her organs and drowning them in blood. She was, ironically, being killed by the very thing responsible for keeping her alive._

"_What are you talking about, Naomi?" She sounded far calmer than she felt. "You look fine to me," she said, making a feeble attempt at a joke. _

"_Emily."_

"_I mean, you can't be dying," Emily said a little louder. "Because you're sitting in front of me looking perfectly healthy—a little depressed, but shit, who isn't these days?"_

"_Emily."_

"_You're not dying, Naomi, you can't be! You can't just show up on a random beach, take over my life, and then tell me you're dying! It's not fair!" Emily's voice was a shrill squeak, a high-pitched whine vibrating at frequencies that only dogs and very sensitive microphones could hear. Considering that Naomi wasn't fully human, Emily thought there was a good chance she'd heard every word._

"_Don't try and tell me what isn't fair, Emily," Naomi hissed back. "I didn't ask for these powers. I didn't ask to be born as an immortal being. I'd much rather be a person, someone who knew exactly what the limits to life were. And it wasn't a random beach, Emily; it was __**my**__ beach __**you**__ came onto that day, not the other way around."_

"_You're the one who knew everything!" Emily yelled. "You had to keep coming back, didn't you? You could have just stayed away; it would have been easy. Instead you take me out, fall asleep with me, enchant me with your fucking stars. You dance with me and let me kiss you, make me…make me lov—" She couldn't choke out any more words past the lump in her throat. _

"_You think I wanted this to happen?" Naomi's voice was ice; it chilled Emily to her core and froze her in her place. "You think I wanted to make you feel this way; you think __**I**__ wanted to feel this way? I would walk away if I could, Emily. I would have made sure I was on the other side of the world that night if I had known it was going to end up like this. I don't need any more sadness in my life, Emily, and I sure as fuck don't need to be the cause of anyone else's. But I can't change my decision."_

"_You could just take it back," Emily implored childishly._

"_And kill my mother?" Naomi retaliated. "How selfish."_

"_But—"_

"_Emily," Naomi rasped, "please don't make this any more difficult than it already is." She ran a hand through her hair, her cheeks deflating as she expelled a lengthy breath from them. "I've got to go," she said as she got up._

_Emily was up in a flash, too; everything was happening too fast. "No, wait, Naomi—"_

"_What, Emily?" Naomi whipped around and fixed Emily with a fatal glare, one that belied the pain that Emily saw in her eyes. It was enough. Emily stormed toward Naomi and kissed her before she could protest, sucking the blonde's lips deep into her. Her hands forcefully roamed Naomi's body, exploring before she lost the chance to. She wanted to possess Naomi one last time, and with that desperate, pleading kiss, she did. She stole any ties Naomi had to anyone else and replaced them with memories of a feisty redhead, one who would never let go. She marked Naomi, branded her with a kiss._

_It was the sob that stopped her, the whispered 'please' that tore her insides apart. Naomi whined her name like it meant something._

"_Naomi, I love—"_

_Naomi cut her off with a finger on her lips, keeping her eyes firmly shut. "Don't," she moaned, her voice grating on Emily's ears._

"_Don't what?"_

_Naomi opened her eyes and frowned painfully at Emily. She opened her mouth to speak, letting it hang for just a moment too long; it took all the resolve Emily had not to cover it with another kiss. Instead, she listened. _

"_Don't kiss me like you think I'm coming back," Naomi squeaked.

* * *

_"I'm sorry, Emily," Effy said softly.

Emily stopped reading the myths and found Effy staring at her curiously, an uncharacteristic embarrassed tinge to her cheeks. "For what, Eff?" Emily asked. "For not telling me earlier?"

"Yeah," Effy shrugged. "And for starting this whole mess in the first place," she said, pointing to the pages spread in Emily's hands. "Come talk with me," she said with a flick of her head.

Emily folded the pages into a neat square and slipped them in the back pocket of her jeans as she followed Effy onto the roof. Effy crossed her legs under her and sat, her back arched stiffly like a cat. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply; Emily absently wondered how many cigarettes Effy had consumed in her many lifetimes.

Effy passed the fag to her and Emily took a long drag. She wasn't normally a smoker, but it seemed like a great time to take up the habit. "You've got to tell me if there's more, Eff," she said quietly.

Effy took the cigarette back without a word or a glance. "You know as much as I do, Emily."

Emily nodded. She looked at the sky; it was so very different from the sky she had shared with Naomi. The never-ending grey seemed far more closed off than Naomi's black dotted portrait had.

"Naomi showed me your constellation," Emily suddenly.

"Did she?" Effy laughed ruefully. "Just one more thing Naomi had to take," she spat bitterly.

Emily turned to look at Effy, surprised at the undercurrent of venom in her words. "That was decidedly melodramatic of you, Effy."

Effy sighed and smiled knowingly. "Yeah, that was a little much, wasn't it?" She effortlessly blew a smoke ring. "But I guess I sort of meant it. Naomi was always the favorite. My mother barely knew my name. I haven't had a proper conversation with her in decades."

Emily scrutinized Effy's face, wondering how she could affect such a calm façade when she was clearly hurting inside. What kind of pain lay beneath Effy's misleading eyes; what kind of turmoil bubbled under her cheeks? Emily knew without a doubt that she was sitting on the same roof as the loneliest person in the world.

"I had another brother," Effy said softly. "One who was just mine, I mean. My dad was human, and he had a son."

"Yeah, I know," Emily replied. "I gathered from the stories that you two were close."

Effy nodded. "He wasn't just mine; he was the only thing I've ever had that was mine. I did everything with him, right up until he died."

"But that was ages ago, wasn't it?" Emily asked, careful not to sound too dismissive.

Effy's eyes looked more liquid than normal; Emily thought she detected the hint of a quiver in her chin. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "He only died four years ago."

"When you and Cook started being human?" Emily blurted. "But—"

"He was mine, Emily," Effy said; there was a hardened edge to her voice. "I wasn't about to let him go. I had enough powers of my own to extend his life."

"What are you trying to tell me, Effy?" Emily wanted to push; she was interested in Effy's life more than she'd thought she would be. But she could sense that Effy had a point to make.

Effy flicked her cigarette off the edge of the building and leaned over to watch it fall. Though she didn't think for a second that Effy would throw herself off the roof, Emily tensed at the thought of the brunette tumbling onto the sidewalk. Effy may have once been immortal, but she wasn't anymore. She could get hurt. (Then again, judging by the stories Effy had told her, she didn't need a fall onto concrete to do that).

"I'm just saying," Effy said as she got up, pushing off her knees, "that I had Tony. Naomi's only ever had our mother. Epithumiandra is hers. You can't ask her to change that."

"Yeah, but I'm hers, too," Emily protested weakly.

"So tell her," Effy said. She slid the trick door open and climbed back in the house.

Emily looked over the edge of the building, wishing she could make Effy's cigarette float back up to her. "I tried," she mumbled to herself. "I really fucking tried."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: We haven't seen Cook for a while, have we? That's what's been missing. Anyway, life has been stupid and Twitter/fanfic has kind of (totally) made everything better. Oh, the wonders of being a part of something.

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_Bellicatus became a creature of the night soon after his encounter with Cruenterrex. He stayed out until the faint morning sun gave him a cold sweat. He bedded women with reckless abandon, savoring the feel of their warm skin. Bellicatus was always aware of the jealousy he held within him. He coveted their zeal for life._

_Audemensus was frequently within his line of sight, no matter where he was. She found him and watched him as she sat with her earth brother, Anthony. They had the same blue doe eyes. Bellicatus disliked his eyes; they had none of the reluctant warmth that his sister's did. He kept a close eye on Audemensus whenever she was with Anthony. Humans were never enough; he knew that. They would never be good enough for her, just like the woman on top of whom he rested wasn't nearly enough for him._

"_Are you alright, my love?" she purred from beneath him._

_Bellicatus rolled over and turned away. "I am tired," he said sullenly. "It is time for me to go."_

_The woman trailed a finger slowly down his back. "Stay the night," she murmured. "You never do."_

"_I must go. You know this."_

"_Not even for me?"_

"_I cannot stay!" he yelled. "And even if I could, why would I stay with one such as you? You, mere mortal, are nothing. You are nobody."_

_Bellicatus sat up and left the bed, busying himself with looking for his clothes. He looked up to see Audemensus staring at him through a window; Anthony was several feet behind her talking to a scantily-clad woman._

"_And who are you?" the woman in Bellicatus's bed challenged._

_Bellicatus fixed his eyes once more upon his sister. She made a point of glancing at Anthony behind her, rolling her eyes, and looking back at Bellicatus. Audemensus smirked and walked away._

"_I am but a simple man," Bellicatus said to his bedmate, "wondering what can be done when one has lost his shirt." He smiled wickedly. Bellicatus's intentions were not lost on his companion, and she kept him occupied well into the night. He stayed until he couldn't be sure if he was sweating from her attentive ministrations or the heat of the morning sun. He stayed until he ached all over.

* * *

_Emily's heart had jumped into her throat when she saw the small pages at the foot of the couch. She had given up on reading any more of the myths; when Effy had confronted her about Naomi's prophecy, Emily had figured that she'd ripped the pages out of the book after the words had already appeared. But these pages were clean and unbroken, and more importantly, the words were handwritten. Somebody had taken the time to make sure Emily read these stories. Emily didn't know for sure, but she had a hunch that that somebody might be a delicate brunette with a penchant for stargazing and an overdeveloped sense of guilt.

Emily surveyed the story once more with a careful eye. She wasn't exactly itching to know the details of Cook's sexual adventures, but it was nice to get a little insight. She felt sad for him by the end of the story; it was obvious he didn't think he was enough either. Emily wondered if Cook realized just how much he had in common with the humans he so desperately loved. She wondered if that wouldn't just make her sadder, because that's what it was doing to her.

* * *

Emily didn't like to see people sad, so she spent most of her time cheering trying to cheer them up. She decided to drop in on Cook and lay down a little bit of preemptive charm, a pick-me-up he didn't know he needed. It was early yet for the restaurant to be full; she was counting on the lack of customers to make Cook focus wholly on her.

"Emilio!" A loud yell went up as soon as she set foot in the bar. Cook was standing behind the counter, arms high in the air and a smile the size of the Grand Canyon on his face. She was right; Cook was starving for something to do. "Haven't seen you in a while, Red, what's going on?"

"Got a minute?"

"Have I got a minute…" He pretended to be offended. "For you, Red, I've all the time in the world." He motioned for her to follow him and they sat down at a table in the back, right near the kitchen. "What's going on? What's been happening?"

"Lots of things," Emily said vaguely. "I know a lot of stuff. Did Effy tell you?"

Cook's face was suddenly serious and unreadable. "What's there to tell?"

"Did you know Naomi is dying?"

Cook nodded somberly. "Yeah. I did."

"And you knew about the prophecy?"

"Yep. Big scandal in the kingdom, that was."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"No."

"Cook!"

"Look, you didn't need to know. It wasn't ever going to affect you, and you looked like you needed a nice, meaningless fling. For Christ's sake, you just got out of a relationship. You don't need to start one with my wackjob of a sister."

"Funny, I never thought of Effy in that way," Emily quipped.

For once, Cook didn't laugh. "I'm being serious, Emily," he said.

"So am I. Sometimes she's got that whole undead vibe going on. It's a little creepy."

"Ah, come on, Emilio. Don't start."

"You've always been the protector, haven't you, Cook?"

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, you protect me from Naomi; you protect Naomi from me; you protect Effy from Tony…"

"His name's Anthony."

"Effy calls him Tony."

"Yeah, well, that's Eff, isn't it? _I'm_ telling you his name's Anthony."

"What, does he prefer Anthony?"

"Hates it."

"You do know he's dead, right?"

"'Course I do," Cook murmured.

"Did you kill him?" Emily gently probed.

"No," Cook said adamantly. "I may have hated his guts, but I sure as fuck didn't kill him."

"Can you help me save Naomi?"

Cook's eyes softened. "It can't be done, Emilio. She's got to die."

"If there was a way to save her, would you do it?"

"In a heartbeat," Cook muttered sincerely.

Emily got up from the table. "See you around, Cook."

* * *

Emily was prepared by the time she got to work; JJ was going to help her and she was going to give him the means to do so.

"Afternoon, Emily," he said brightly. "How are things?"

Emily smiled. "Been better, Jay. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He put down the book he had been perusing and focused on her. He had an unnervingly interested stare.

"Let's say you have this friend, and you know something about this friend. You know that something bad is going to happen to said friend, and everyone who knows about it is telling you that you can't prevent this bad thing from happening. My question is, knowing this, knowing that your time with your friend is probably limited, do you try and fix the problem, thus potentially alienating you from everyone you know and meddling in places that are none of your business, or do you make the most of the time you do have and let things play out however they will?"

"That's a loaded question," JJ sighed. "What's going to happen to your friend?"

"Death. I mean, they're going to die. Hypothetically, of course."

"What would make you happiest—having a few short, happy months, or however long you've got, or waiting around and hoping you get more?"

"Yeah, but what if I—I mean, this totally hypothetical person—what if you fail?"

JJ smiled slyly. "That's the conundrum about what-ifs, isn't it? There's the big, scary what-if—what if you fail? And then there's the highly improbably, and infinitely more tantalizing, what-if—what if you don't? Which one you listen to depends on what kind of person you are—you know, chicken or the egg, glass half-full or half-empty, how you interpret Pandora's box. That sort of thing."

"Uh, sorry, Jay…Pandora's box?"

"You're familiar with the myth of Pandora's box, yes?"

Emily groaned. "No more mythology, JJ. I've had more than I can handle lately."

"Bear with me for a moment," he said, undeterred. "Let me tell you a story. According to Greek legend, Zeus had a bit of a temper and he got vindictive when he got angry. When Prometheus stole fire from the gods, Zeus was incensed that he had been tricked. He got all the gods together and they created Pandora, a woman who was beautiful and deceitful. She was made of every foul gift the gods could think of. Zeus created her as a punishment for Prometheus and gave her a box. He told her never to open it and sent her down to Epimetheus, Prometheus's brother. Prometheus had told his brother not to accept any gifts from the gods, but Pandora was too beautiful for Epimetheus to turn away. Pandora's curiosity got the better of her and she opened the box, unleashing upon the world all of the illnesses and negativities that the gods had stashed away. Terrified of these evil spirits, Pandora quickly shut the box, but it was too late. Only Hope remained in the box, locked in forever. Now, you can look at that in one of two ways: you have hope ensnared in a cage for eternity, trapped and unable to reach us. _Or_ it's safe in the box, hidden away from anything that might taint it. So how do you see the box—as a prison or a safe haven?"

Emily looked at JJ strangely, like she was seeing him for the first time. He was unlike anyone else Emily had met before, a web of shocking wisdom wrapped in a ball of social deficiencies.

"You're something else, JJ," Emily laughed.

"That seems to be a common reaction to my personality," JJ responded with a smile.

"I hope you don't take it negatively," Emily said earnestly. She truly meant it, too. JJ was a different breed of person. He was sincere and unassuming, the kind of individual that Emily was sure she wouldn't find anywhere else. "You're a nice person."

"I know," he nodded. "So what are you going to do?"

Emily smiled. "Well, _I_ am going to put my faith in hope. And you, my friend, are going to help me."

"I am?"

"You are," Emily confirmed. "I need you to read something for me." She grabbed a slip of paper out of her bag and handed it to him. It was a copy of the prophecy. "I want you to take a look at this and tell me what you get out of it."

JJ's eyes scanned the prophecy as Emily watched; she felt like she was cheating on Naomi just by allowing him to read it. "'When the one who knows all is born…'" he muttered. "What is this?"

"It's how I'm going to save Naomi," Emily said without thinking. "Can you take a look at it?"

"Naomi?" JJ blurted. "Naomi's dying?"

"Er…yes," Emily admitted. "It's, um, it's a long story? I'd just really appreciate it if you'd take a look, see what you can make of it."

"Of course," JJ nodded fervently. "I'll get started right now."

"Great." Emily closed her bag and draped it over her shoulder. She gestured toward the door. "Do you mind if I…?"

"No, no, go right ahead." JJ gave her a sympathetic smile and a wave. "I hope you figure things out."

"Me too," Emily smiled back. She paused at the door, hand ready to turn the knob. "Thank you, JJ."

He looked up from the page with sad eyes. "Would you do this for me?" he asked softly. "I'm your friend. Would you work this hard to save me?"

"I don't know," Emily squirmed. The metal of the doorknob was cold against her skin, and getting colder.

"Naomi's not just a friend, then, is she?"

Emily shook her head. "No," she admitted.

JJ's lips turned slightly upward in a melancholy smile. It looked more like a grimace. "Then I guess I shouldn't waste any more time," he murmured.

* * *

_The water was cold. Not as cold as she expected it to be, but it was still fall. Emily was floating on her back, watching the sky as she drifted along with the soft current. She'd found Effy's constellation three times, each time starting from a different star. It seemed to be smiling more at her with each successive glance. Funny—she wasn't smiling back. _

_She felt a rumble under the waves, as if someone had dropped an entire planet on the ocean floor. Emily flipped over and spread out her limbs, resting daintily on her stomach. She opened her eyes, trying to see past the endless expanse of black. It took a moment for her eyes to get adjusted to the light, as there wasn't any. She saw things with her instincts rather than her vision. Fish darted in frenetic patterns; hundreds of miles away, rocks shifted from the touch of a sea turtle's flipper._

_And suddenly, there she was, standing in an ocean trench looking straight up. The blond tint of Naomi's hair was like a beacon to Emily, pulling her in further until their eyes were mere millimeters apart._

"_Come with me," Emily pleaded. Naomi reached out her hand to Emily, her long fingers stretching gracefully upwards. Emily extended her hand to meet Naomi's. They were both Michelangelo, creating an underwater Sistine Chapel. They were both god and man, giving life to each other, sparking it through fingertips that never touched. The potential that dwelled in the space between them heated Emily's hand, burning the fingerprints off the pad of her index finger._

"_Stay with me," Naomi softly countered. The water between them became unbearably hot, and Emily's hand shot back toward her with a bang, like a rubber band snapped beyond its breaking point._

"Emily. Emily, are you okay?"

The banging was real and incessant, and Emily was startled out of her reverie with a gasp. "S-Sorry?" she stuttered, just realizing how cold she was.

"It's me," Effy said, her voice muffled behind the bathroom door. "You've been in there for a really long time. Are you okay?"

Emily's breath came in short pants as the chilly water beat a drum against her back. "Um, yeah," she said. "A bit cold, though; can you grab me a towel?" She turned off the faucet and rubbed her hands over her arms, trying in vain to warm herself up.

Emily hid behind the shower curtain; only her head peeked out as Effy opened the bathroom door.

"Here." Effy held out a fluffy blue towel; Emily snaked her hand out from behind the curtain to grab it. "Jesus, Emily, your fingers are fucking purple. How long have you been in there?"

Emily snatched the towel and quickly wrapped herself in it, covering every part of herself that it would allow. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I just wanted to feel the water."

Effy guided her out of the tub. Emily's limbs seemed to be moving at a glacial pace. "There's ways to do that without also getting hypothermia. You weren't trying to…?"

Emily shook her head vigorously. "No," she said. "I just…I don't know; I wanted to feel connected, I guess."

Effy smiled knowingly. "Come find me next time. You can't really feel connected if you're all alone."

"Thanks, Eff."

Effy threw some clothes at her. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day."

Emily crinkled her brows. "Why, what am I doing tomorrow?"

Effy's smile was mysterious and playful. "Whatever you want to. Every day from here on out is a big one. You might as well be rested."

"Okay." Emily nodded curtly as Effy left the room. She changed into her delightfully cozy clothes. The couch, when she went back into the living room, was warm and inviting. She burrowed her head into the pillows, wrapped the blankets all the way around her until she couldn't move. Her mind raced back to the feeling of the last time she'd slept with Naomi on the couch; if she thought hard enough, she could smell Naomi's hair, and the blankets became her protective arms. When Emily dreamed, she dreamed of blue eyes that got lost in the calm of the sea. She reached out her mind, trying to connect over distance and space, ignoring the laws of physics because Naomi was special. _See me,_ she pleaded.

When she slept, she was found.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So much has happened since I last updated; I can't believe it's been almost a month (sorry for that, by the way). Let me just say that I LOVE ALL OF YOU and also (I'm sure this has been jammed into your brains enough, but whatever), go check out "The Game." Blah blah epic round robin blah blah awesome authors...it's amazing and I'm still flailing. Anyway. Remember how I said a while ago that this story was going to take the Angst Express into Hurtsville? You've arrived at your destination and will stay there for the next 8 (or so) chapters. You've been warned. If I haven't wrenched your gut out by the end of this chapter, then I guess I'll just have to try harder for the next one. So, um...enjoy?

* * *

**

Emily didn't see Naomi for a week. It was a disappointment for the first two days; those nights at the beach were the coldest she'd ever experienced, and not because of the weather. Eventually she stopped going and focused her energy on finding a way to save Naomi. It did no good to dwell on Naomi's attitude when she couldn't change it. Instead, Emily directed her efforts on defeating the prophecy. _That_ she was sure she could change, no matter what anyone was saying to the contrary.

Katie called the bookstore every day at 3:00 to tell Emily some more of the myths. She had persuaded her contact at the museum to let her copy the few texts that he had. (Emily tried not to think too much about exactly what Katie had to do for that privilege). It wasn't helpful at all, but Emily liked to know everything she could about Naomi and her past. It made her feel connected. She learned, for example, that Naomi once had a pet sting ray that Cook chased away; the first time Naomi ever tried to use her powers, she almost started a war between the two largest clans in their kingdom. Emily found herself laughing a lot in the afternoons, if only because there was very little to laugh at otherwise.

There was one myth, though, that Emily had found very telling. It was barely a blurb, but it revealed more about Effy than the mysterious girl could every say about herself.

* * *

_Where Arnithusia had Epithumiandra, Audemensus had Tony. They spent every waking moment together; Tony altered his life to fit Audemensus's schedule. When she was confused about a part of human life, he helped her to learn, and when he wanted to be fascinated with the world, Audemensus regaled him with stories of majestic underwater castles and seascapes, of merbattles and adventures with sharks. They each envied the other's life, but had to content themselves with living in their imaginations._

_Audemensus frequently spent time lying with Tony under the stars; he would bring trinkets and gadgets from his daily routine and try to explain them to her. More often than not, Audemensus found herself laughing at the silly things invented by humans to make life easier. For his part, Tony marveled at the things gods considered to be mundane._

_Tony possessed the childlike wonder that Audemensus had always lacked, and when she was with him, she was whole.

* * *

_Ever since the day on the rooftop, Effy had been more open and genuine with Emily. She had answered Emily's questions as fully as she could; Effy was only cryptic when she was tired. Emily learned to probe Effy's mind during the early afternoon, right after Effy had eaten lunch and had a rejuvenating smoke. Emily was surprised to find that Effy had a sharp sense of humor and could even be provoked into laughter now and again. She was much livelier than Emily had ever given her credit for.

And yet, there was still a barrier. Emily could sense that Effy was holding something back. The fact that she had stopped leaving myths for Emily to find only cemented her suspicions. Deep down, for all her fronts and defenses, Effy was still afraid, and Emily needed to know why. It wasn't just because she was curious, either. The one thing Emily believed above all else was that she had the ability to help everyone, even if it was only in a small way. It just didn't seem like Effy wanted help at all.

"Good morning, Emily." JJ's voice was a shock to Emily; she hadn't even realized she'd been walking to the bookstore until she got there.

"Morning, Jay," she said haltingly, taking a minute to compose herself. "How're you doing?"

JJ smiled brightly. "I'm alright," he said. "Still stumped by this prophecy, though. There's still something I'm missing."

Emily set her bag down on a chair. "Well, what have you got so far?"

JJ puffed out his cheeks. "That's just it," he sighed. "I haven't got anything that you couldn't figure out on your own."

"Try me anyway."

"Alright." JJ pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the table. He had clearly spent a lot of time analyzing the prophecy; there were notes and brackets around words; certain things were highlighted or underlined. His tight handwriting lent an air of urgency to his examination. Emily was impressed by JJ's dedication. She then felt immediately guilty because he was dedicated only because she asked him to be.

"You paying attention?" JJ inquired. Emily nodded. "Okay. It's quite simple to understand once you determine who the prophecy is actually talking. For example, "the one who knows all"—that's Naomi."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "How did you know that?"

JJ's face was red and he wouldn't meet her eye. "I read the myths before I gave them back to you. You know, that day Effy left her bag in the shop. It wasn't hard to put the dots together."

"Yeah, but—"

"Don't forget that I've known Effy, Cook, and Naomi longer than you have, Emily. They're hardly perfect people. Effy and Cook are barely used to being people, anyway. There have been signs over the years. It certainly explains a lot. Can I go on?"

Emily sucked back a laugh; JJ was cute when he was trying to be assertive, especially since he failed ninety percent of the time. "Sure, Jay," she obliged.

"Okay, so we've established who Naomi is. That only leaves "the creator," which isn't hard to figure out. That's Naomi's mum. Basically what this prophecy is saying is that Naomi's birth triggered a life-changing event for Epithumiandra."

"This must be the bifurcated part of the prophecy," Emily mused.

"Bifur-what?" JJ blurted.

Emily shook her head. "Never mind. Go on."

"Right, so Naomi's birth altered the course of Epithumiandra's life. It triggered the events of the prophecy: at some point in her future, Epithumiandra would be forced to make a decision."

"To take Naomi's powers or give up her throne," Emily continued. "But she didn't know about this decision. She never heard the prophecy until it was too late. That hardly seems fair."

"Have you ever heard of a god who was completely fair? Even in the Old Testament, the Jewish God is vengeful: "If I whet my glittering sword, and mine hand take hold on judgment; I will render vengeance to mine enemies." That's in Deuteronomy. It's funny; religion paints any sort of deity as being perfect and ideal, when they seem to share a lot of personality traits with man."

"'God created man in his own image, and man, being a gentleman, returned the favor,'" Emily added. "Twain said that."

JJ looked impressed. "Exactly. So it doesn't matter that Naomi's mum didn't know what she was getting herself into. For one thing, her mother is a bit of a tyrant, and the fact remains that she _could_ have known if she'd listened. Cruenterrex, for all her faults, did try to tell her. So, even though she did so unknowingly, she chose to take Naomi's powers and in doing so, sealed her fate. It's simple, really, which leads me to think that there's something I'm missing."

Emily mulled it over for a moment. "It doesn't make any sense, though" she said, thinking out loud. "Effy gave me some more of the myths, including the one where Naomi found out about the prophecy. She talked to her grandmother and Cruenterrex told her that "What has been foretold shall come to pass." But now Naomi's going to die instead of her mum and her mum still gets to live as ruler. Those weren't part of the prophecy. Naomi's bargain didn't change things, did it?"

"I shouldn't think so," JJ said slowly. "Prophecy is prophecy. One way or another, it's got to be fulfilled. I'll have to think about it some more."

Emily smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jay. That takes a little off my mind for now. Turns the world on my back into just a boulder."

"Any time, Atlas," JJ smirked. Emily threw him a reproachful glare; she'd had more mythology than she'd ever wanted to deal with. "Sorry, couldn't help it," he said, laughing. "I really do mean it though," he said earnestly. "Any time."

"I know, JJ," Emily said with a heavy heart. "I know."

* * *

Emily headed straight to Freddie's after work; normally she'd go home to unwind, but she wanted to catch Cook and Effy at a time when she knew they'd be in the same place. Emily didn't know how she'd missed that they were siblings before; they both had an uncanny ability to be as slippery as eels.

"Evening, Emilio," Cook said when he noticed Emily walk in. The smile that sat on his face wasn't his normal wide grin; Emily figured he was still smarting from their last conversation.

"Hi, Cook," Emily replied. "Fancy grabbing a bit to eat? You can spare a break, right?"

Cook checked his watch; Emily knew it was in vain—the restaurant was barely full. "Yeah, I think I can swing that," he sighed. "Let me grab Eff."

Emily nodded and made her way toward their usual table in the back; it was a large booth, secluded in a corner away from the other patrons and the kitchen. Effy slid in, smiling, next to Emily. Cook quirked his lips upward for just a second.

"I want to know about how you two became human," Emily said, foregoing any small talk.

Cook bristled immediately. "That's not going to help you, Emily—"

Effy placed a hand gently on Cook's tensed arm. "Cook, it's okay. She had to find out sometime. Okay?" Cook nodded after a moment. He still didn't look happy. "Okay. Well, you've got to start. You did it first."

Cook inhaled deeply through his nose. "It's got to do with Freddie," he said softly.

"With how he died?" Emily gently prodded.

"What you need to know, Red," Cook continued, "is that gods are not nice beings by nature."

Emily scoffed. "I'm beginning to realize that."

"I got tired of being a god. It was nice, immortality and all that shit, but it was boring. Besides, I couldn't do half the shit that Blondie and Effs could. I just got to go top-side first, that's all. Being a supernatural being was just keeping me away from my friends."

"Freddie and JJ."

"Yeah," Cook confirmed. He picked the nail of his index finger violently against the side of the table. "I just got tired of leaving them all the time. I begged my grandmother to help me, but she wasn't exactly a generous god. She said she'd help, but only if I gave something up. Gods are fickle creatures, Emilio. They make decisions and demands just because they can. So one day, my dear old gran came to me and said that if I truly wanted to be human, I had to sacrifice the one thing I loved best."

"So…what did you do?" Emily asked cautiously. Her heart was pounding; she was fascinated by what Cook was telling her, but she was terrified of his words.

Cook looked up at her with angry, tear-filled eyes. He sniffed loudly. "I met Freds on the beach one night just like I always had. He was wearing this stupid green shirt; I'd always hated it. He walked over to me, smiling like an idiot, and I started wrestling with him. He was laughing and just taking it—Freds was a fucking weak bastard. I pushed him closer and closer to the water, and when he finally fell in, I pushed him in and…and I just held him there." Cook cleared his throat; his hand, no longer picking at the table, was balled in a fist. "He—he was squirming a lot, but I kept my hand on the back of his head, and just like that…he stopped. It only took a few minutes."

Emily was stunned; she only wished that the shock erased any desire to know more. "What did you do next?" she asked, her voice raw.

"I had to take a few minutes to think. I didn't know what to do, Red—what the fuck are you supposed to do when you've just murdered your best friend? I would have just sat there for the rest of the night if Naomi hadn't shown up. Apparently she'd heard what I was planning on doing and tried to stop me. She got there too late though, and the only thing she helped me do was shove Freddie's body underwater. She started yelling at me and I started crying, and then JJ was there, and I just snapped, man. I screamed at him, went ballistic and chased him away. I don't remember the rest of that night; I got smashed at some seedy dive and the next morning I woke up in a bed that wasn't surrounded on all sides by the ocean."

Cook stopped talking; his lip quivered threateningly but he didn't break. His despair was instead echoed in Effy's hollow eyes and Emily's tear-stained cheeks.

"Do you know what it was like that next morning, Emilio?" he asked softly. Emily shook her head slowly. "I woke up and the first thing I remember is just feeling alive. There was this odd throbbing in my chest that I couldn't place, and then I realized it was my heart. I could feel my heart beating. I thought about Freddie and what I'd done, and I was crushed. I got up with every intention of appealing to my grandmother and seeing if she could take it back, but when I got outside the sun was shining and I could feel it on my face. So you know what I did instead? I laughed. Freddie was dead, and I felt fucking relieved."

He got up and left the table without so much as a backward glance. Emily was frozen to her seat. She wanted to be disgusted by Cook; she wanted to hate him because he had willingly and knowingly murdered a human being. Not only that, but he had literally killed his best friend with his bare hands. She should want to be as far away from him as possible. She should want to scorn him and turn him into the police and make sure he was punished in every way possible.

Instead, Emily wanted to hug him.

Underneath everything, Cook was a terrified child who had just learned that fire burns when you touch it.

"Are you alright, Emily?"

Emily looked sadly at Effy, who seemed to have reverted to her guarded self of old. "I'm…I don't know how I am." She jerked her head back and scooted away from the brunette. "You're a human," she said, suddenly connecting the dots.

Effy's cheeks colored slightly. "Yes," she said firmly.

"Who did you…?"

"Tony," Effy said blandly. "He would have done anything I asked him to. So one day, I asked him to walk into the water, and he didn't get back out."

"But…"

"Don't judge us, Emily, please. You couldn't possibly understand what it took for us to get here. We have to remember it every day."

"I wasn't going to judge you, Effy," Emily said, embarrassed. "I was going to ask why Naomi couldn't do the same thing."

"Do you think it's that easy, Emily, killing a person?" Emily immediately started to protest. "I know you don't," Effy cut over her. "But Naomi's only ever truly loved one person in her life, and she's already sacrificed herself once to save her. She couldn't kill our mum, Emily. Not only would it devastate her, it would affect the entire world."

"So, there isn't anyone…I mean, no one else would…" Emily floundered for the right words. She fell silent after a moment of realizing they didn't exist.

Effy looked at her shrewdly. "There might be one other person," she said quietly.

Emily cleared her throat. "And, do you think Naomi could…do you think they would do it?"

Effy looked at her so openly, without any malice or cruel intentions; she looked at her with a gaze so full of pity that Emily's heart began to race out of fear.

"Depends," Effy smirked. "Do you feel like dying?"


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: You know how sometimes you have to get way worse before you get better? Welcome to Emily's rock bottom.

* * *

**

Emily could feel her heart constrict in her chest. It was like someone had tried to fit it in a box two sizes too small. She moved her mouth soundlessly, opening and closing it like a fish floundering for air. Emily was floundering; she was trying to find the right words, the right thoughts, the right emotions to feel. She wanted an easy answer—whatever happened to yes or no? It seemed that Emily's life lately had been built on buts and ifs, on maybes and other uncertain words. She wanted to go back to a time when the world was at least painted in shades of grey closer to the black end of the spectrum.

"No, Eff, I…"

"That was a rhetorical question, Emily," Effy said softly. "Your death would destroy everything."

Emily cringed at Effy's words; they made abstract concepts real; they created images in her head of mortality and finality and the end. Emily didn't like to focus on the end because it was never as important as the in-between. In between things you found out who you were, you learned exactly what you thought because you eventually had to make a choice. Emily just wanted to be in between with Naomi forever.

"There's got to be another way," Emily whimpered plaintively. "She can't just…die. It's not fair."

"It's beautiful, is what it is," Effy responded. Emily shot her a harsh glare. "Let me tell you something about Naomi, Emily. She's always seen the world through a very rigid lens. A side effect of her powers, I believe. This nymph is wrong, that siren is right. There's no middle ground—for her—when it comes to the truth. She's like this in everything she does. So, someone threatens her mother, the person she loves most, it's all very simple what Naomi has to do: she has to save her."

"I don't understand your family, Effy," Emily said with a sigh. "I don't understand the relationships you all have with each other. They're frustrating and sad."

Effy smirked and slid out of the booth. She was gone for a few minutes before coming back with a bucket of onion rings and two drinks. Emily dug into the greasy snack, relishing it not for the taste but for the distraction it provided.

"Let me tell you a little bit about my family, Emily." She pulled an onion out of the breading daintily with her teeth. "First of all, my mother is a bit of an idiot sometimes. She's at once idealistic and selfish, and she has a surprising knack for antagonizing. If you want to blame someone, start with her. She had children because she was lonely, and one of them wasn't even supposed to be born."

"What do you mean?" Emily questioned.

"If my mother had heard the prophecy before she ran crying to her father, do you think she would have begged for his help? No, she would have been too concerned for her own life. Then you wouldn't be in this mess."

"But I also wouldn't have loved Naomi, either," Emily protested. "I can't imagine that life."

Effy shrugged. "Can't love what you don't know," she said simply.

Emily untangled another onion ring from the massive pile. "Why doesn't Naomi love you, Effy? You two seem very similar."

Effy smiled sadly. "Naomi does love me. But she doesn't understand me. We're too similar."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what we can both do, Emily. Didn't you ever think about how alike our powers seemed? Naomi can ferret out the truth just by looking at someone; I can basically do the same thing by reading their minds."

Emily's hand stilled halfway to her mouth. "But, if that's true…does that mean the prophecy can be about you?"

"Who knows?" Effy said nonchalantly. "It might have been, but it doesn't matter anymore. Epithumiandra chose it to be about Naomi when she took Naomi's powers, not mine. And anyway, I'm inclined to think that it was always about Naomi anyway. She knows everything, beyond a shadow of a doubt—Naomi takes one look into someone's eyes and knows whether they're right or wrong. I listen to someone's thoughts and I know exactly that—what they think. Naomi has the ability to see colors; I just see white."

"But…"

"Naomi doesn't truly understand the concept of everything because she hasn't really experienced it. She doesn't understand that white dilutes things. Naomi sees the beginning and the end and just ignores the middle."

"So she accepts her death willingly."

Effy took a sip of her drink. "Of course she does. Her life has just been a means to a strangely-literal end."

Emily swallowed the tears that were trying to claw their way out of her throat. "So even if there was something I could do, she wouldn't want me to."

A playful sparkle blinked in Effy's eyes. "I didn't say that. You've thrown a wrench into the whole thing."

"How?"

Effy fixed her mouth in a serious line. "You make her want to live. Naomi wants to live for you. You're the key to this."

Emily sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "Please don't be cryptic, Effy. If you know something, just tell me. I'm at the end of my rope here."

A placating smile flashed upon Effy's face. "I don't know any more at this point than you do, Emily. If I did, I would tell you. Unfortunately, Naomi has made it perfectly clear that I'm not one of the people who can change her decision. You have to help her with that."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Eff. I don't know what I can do."

Effy grabbed a particularly long onion ring and got up from the table. "You have to help her love the middle."

Emily took a sip of her drink, thinking. So Naomi didn't like the in-between. Well, Emily could certainly help with that.

* * *

"Emily!" Emily turned at the sound of JJ's voice; he was jogging to catch up with her as she left the restaurant. "I figured it out, Emily. I know what the prophecy means." He stopped in front of her with a huff.

"You do?" Emily asked excitedly. "You know a way to save Naomi?"

JJ's somber face told her otherwise. "No," he mumbled.

Emily's face fell. "What do you mean? What else was there to figure out?"

"You actually helped me a lot with that," JJ said guiltily. "I wouldn't have understood it if you hadn't told me what Naomi's grandmother said to her."

"'What has been foretold…'"

"'Shall come to pass,'" JJ finished. "That's just it, Emily. It was always Naomi."

"What?" Emily hissed.

"The prophecy never said anything about Epithumiandra dying; it simply says, "Death is waiting." It never says whose."

"But Epithumiandra is the one who was going to be destroyed," Emily protested weakly.

JJ looked sheepish. "Wouldn't you be destroyed if your daughter died because of a mistake you made?"

Emily felt crushed as JJ's words sunk in. "Naomi fulfilled the prophecy herself," she said, her heart breaking as the words left her mouth.

"I don't think so," JJ said gently. "She might have moved things along quicker than they otherwise would have happened, but she would have died eventually in one way or another. You can't escape a prophecy."

Emily backed into the side of the restaurant and slid down slowly, landing on the sidewalk with a hard thump. She felt like throwing in the towel—every time even the smallest glimmer of hope showed up, there was another truth-bomb waiting to explode her reality. It was getting to be more than she could handle.

"Are you alright, Emily?" JJ was kneeling down, hand on her shoulder, giving her the most sympathetic look she'd ever seen from anyone. He was her lifeline at the moment.

"Can you just take me back to yours, Jay?" she rasped. "I don't want to be alone right now."

* * *

"Here, drink this." JJ set a cup of tea on the table in front of her; it rattled on its plate. Emily winced at the clatter.

"Thanks, JJ," she murmured.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

Emily took a sip of her tea and shook her head. "I just don't know what to do, Jay," she said wearily. "Every time I think I'm getting somewhere, life shits on me again. I can't take it. Life would be much simpler if I had never met Naomi."

The couch cushions sank as JJ sat next to her. "Of course it would," he agreed. "But what would you be doing instead?"

"Living in Bristol with a girl who doesn't need anything more than a shag and some food to get her through the day," Emily sneered. "I could do that."

"Sure." JJ nodded his head. "But would you be happy?"

Emily flopped against the back of the sofa. "No," she admitted. "I would be miserable. But it would be easy."

"Easy isn't generally the best way to live," JJ said sagely.

"You're sweet, JJ." Emily gave him a genuine smile.

JJ cleared his throat and got up from the couch. "Right, you're welcome to stay here if you'd like. I don't have a second bed, but this couch isn't too bad and I could put out some sheets if you'd like."

"Thanks, Jay." Emily stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. "I think I just want to lie down for a bit."

JJ's voice sounded muffled and far away. "Sure, no problem. You come get me if you need anything."

* * *

_The water wasn't as warm as it had been last time. It was rather fucking freezing, actually, and Emily couldn't seem to make herself leave. She was stuck, treading water she could barely keep her chin above. _

_Emily searched the water for any blonde glimmer, any sign that Naomi was still there. She saw nothing but the bottomless black sea; it was empty tonight, devoid of any indication of life. The turtles and sea horses and fish were off somewhere else, sleeping or frolicking where the water wanted them._

_And in the midst of that, Emily remained._

_A ripple echoed through the surface of the water. Emily was puzzled; there was nothing she could for miles._

"_She's still alright, you know." Emily whipped her head to the right to see Effy standing on the surface of the water; it seemed not to touch her. "Alive, I mean. She's still alive."_

"_I know," Emily said quietly._

"_Do you care?"_

"_Why else would I be here? I've been trying to go underwater for the past hour. I can't do it."_

_Effy's eyes were sad. "I know. You won't be able to."_

"_Why not?" Emily whined._

"_She doesn't want you to."

* * *

_Emily's eyes flew open; she had to run her hands over her face to make sure that it wasn't wet. The dream had seemed too real, and dreams with Effy had turned out to be more than flights of fancy in the past.

Unfortunately, this one seemed to be just a dream, as Emily was still firmly on JJ's couch, wrapped in a sheet that she couldn't seem to remember asking for. She wrestled valiantly with it for a moment before freeing herself from its stifling folds. The clock in the kitchen told her it was just past two in the morning; JJ was probably sleeping soundly in his bed. Emily suddenly had an unquenchable urge to check on him, to make sure that at least one person in her life was safe.

She was rewarded a few moments later with the sight of his prone form; his top lip rippled slightly as he snored. Emily smiled and tiptoed quietly into the room.

"JJ," she whispered. "JJ, are you awake?" Emily shook his shoulder lightly.

JJ rubbed his eyes and raised his head blearily. "Emily? What are you…what time is it?"

"A little after two, but it doesn't matter. Can I stay with you tonight?"

JJ blinked his eyes rapidly, as if trying to ascertain if Emily was real. "Of course," he stammered. He lifted up the covers and scooted to the right side of the bed. Emily slunk in and turned on her side.

"Are you sure you're alright, Emily?" JJ asked, his voice thick from sleep.

"I'm not sure of anything at the moment, JJ. I just don't want to fall asleep alone tonight." Emily adjusted her pillows and wriggled deeper into the covers.

JJ turned to face her. "Well, you know I'm always here," he said with a tiny smile. "Just try not to kick or anything."

"I know you're here, JJ," Emily mumbled. She leaned over to his side and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"I love you," JJ slurred, expelling his words in one quick breath.

"What?"

JJ winced and shut his eyes tightly. "Nothing, ignore me. I'm sorry. I'm a big loser, a total idiot and social retard; you should probably disregard anything I ever say because half of it's wrong and the other half doesn't make any sense…"

"JJ, shut up," Emily snapped. "What did you say?"

JJ blushed. "I said I love you," he repeated.

"Do you mean it?"

JJ looked at her with open eyes. "Of course," he said confidently.

Emily stared at him for a moment, scrutinizing his face, trying to find any hint of malicious intentions—did his lips betray his sincere words? Were his eyebrows hiding any smirks or victorious quirks? Was his nose wrinkled with a lie?

When Emily had determined that JJ was sincere, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. They were the wrong lips, and they didn't compare at all, but they were something. Then suddenly he wasn't calm JJ anymore, he wasn't spastic JJ or locked-on JJ; he was confident JJ and he was kissing her with determined desire. Emily found herself kissing him back just as fervently; she didn't mind it when he shifted on top of her; she didn't mind it when his hands began to wander to places that seriously violated any employer/employee rules. He was gentle with her and he was loving and he was just so gloriously _there_.

When he was done, he rolled off with a soft kiss to the cheek and didn't say another word.

Emily cried.

* * *

When Emily woke the next morning, she woke with a sudden urge to find Effy.

She wanted to change her answer.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Okay, I don't want to call this filler, because it's not. But it's shorter and it's emotions like whoa and it sets up the next chapter a lot. But also please enjoy it because I like it a lot. This is where you can see my poetic side, and if I could, I would write the entire story in Emily's visions and let you all draw whatever conclusions you wanted to. But that would be cruel and make my brain hurt and nobody really wants that. So anyway. You know. Enjoy.

* * *

**

"What happened to her?"

"Dunno. I came home and found her like this. Hasn't said a word all day. Should we do something?"

"Is she sleeping?"

"I don't think so. Sometimes she blinks."

"Leave her out a sandwich and a blanket. She'll pick one."

* * *

"_Not happy today, I see."_

_Emily threw a pebble into the water. It didn't go very far; her dad would be disappointed. "I fucked JJ. How's your day been?"_

_Effy barked a bitter laugh. "Far better than that. Was he any good?"_

_Emily shrugged. "Not bad. Not really my thing, but not bad. Won't do it again, though."_

"_Feel like taking a swim?"_

_Emily wriggled her toes in the sand. "I might dip my feet in. Get back to me on that."

* * *

_The couch had taken on a new shape since Emily had gotten home; it was sunken, wailing. It conceded control. _No wonder I like this couch so much_, Emily thought melodramatically. She'd crashed on it early in the morning, after drudging back from JJ's apartment in the early hours of the morning. Emily had spent the rest of the morning staring at the wall opposite the couch—the paint was peeling at a spot three feet from the ceiling; if she stared long enough, she could find faces in the freckles in the wall.

There was a crease in Emily's pants; folded uncomfortably against her leg, it dug into her calf every time she shifted position. Her arm was bent awkwardly under her head—Emily didn't know how long she'd been on the couch: five, maybe six hours? It was at least that long since she'd woken up. Cook and Effy had left the sandwich and blanket a while ago; she didn't want to pick up the sandwich because she was still feeling nauseous, and she couldn't touch the blanket because she didn't want to fall asleep. If she fell asleep, she'd remember the mistake she made with JJ, or worse—she'd dream of Naomi.

Instead, Emily focused on the wall and tried to widen the crack with her eyes.

* * *

"_Come on. Open your eyes. I can't entertain myself here for very long. It's quite boring."_

_Emily spluttered and blinked her eyes open against a sprinkling of drops—Effy was flicking water on her face. Emily was lying on the beach, her head floating in the water, feet stretched out on the sand. She could feel every separate strand as it bobbed with the tide. Emily propped herself up on her elbows, squinting at the sun._

"_My head hurts," she groaned, putting a hand to her temple. _

"_Yeah, I thought it might," Effy said absently. "Feel like that swim yet?"_

_Emily smirked. "I'll swim when you do."_

_Effy sighed and sat down next to Emily. The ocean bubbled the closer she got to the water; when Effy touched it, it hissed and crept out to surround them. The sand turned grey for as far as Emily could see, contrasting against the sudden red hue of the water. Effy laughed._

"_What?" Emily huffed._

"_You look like a Q-tip with blood on both ends. It matches you perfectly."_

_Emily shoved Effy's shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

* * *

_"Do you think we should call someone? She hasn't moved at all."

"Who do you want to call, Cook? We're her only friends."

"Well, I mean, she works at the book—"

"No."

"We've got to do _something_, Eff."

"It's, what, midnight now? Might be a little early over there, but I think I've got someone I can call."

* * *

"_Do you hear something?"_

_Effy nodded and pushed her fingers into the wet sand; her hand stuck out like a five-pronged fork. "Yeah. She's been calling for you for a while."_

_Emily strained her neck, tipping her head up toward the sky even though the sound was coming from underwater. She tried to make out the words, but every time she came close, they slipped away, sticking out their tongues and ducking under the waves where she couldn't breathe. _

"_I can't understand anything," she sighed._

_Effy slowly made a fist with her half-submerged hand and dug a chunk of sand out of the ground. Some of it oozed from between her fingers; Emily immediately thought of making drip castles on beaches in France with Katie over summers in her childhood. She grabbed some sand for herself and tried to make one, but it just came out all clumpy._

"_You're not supposed to understand, you know. She's not speaking English. She's not even speaking."_

"_So she's just making sounds then?" Emily quipped sardonically._

"_She's singing. Listen."_

_Emily strained her ears, trying to catch more than a fleeting whisper of what Effy was talking about, but it was too weak. She gulped in a big breath and stuck her head under water, making sure to keep her eyes tightly shut. She didn't want the music to get in anywhere except her ears._

_And oh, did it. It slipped into her skull through her ear drums and sunk into her brain, firing synapses at random and sending shockwaves throughout the rest of her body; she felt the words and notes in every finger, in her kneecaps and muscles; she saw lights flash behind her eyelids in short, intense bursts of purple. Emily couldn't understand a word of what Naomi was singing, but she knew what she was saying. It was a terribly affecting song; Naomi clipped and held notes with gut-wrenching emotion._

_It was a song of mourning._

_Emily knew because she was singing it, too.

* * *

_"Effy, right? How is she?"

"She's been on the couch since yesterday morning. Gets up to take a piss every once in a while, but that's it. She hasn't eaten more than two bites of a sandwich."

"Get some tomato soup and she'll start talking."

"Who's your friend?"

"The fuck is it to you? I'd like to be with Emily now."

Katie's knees cracked as she crouched down by Emily's face. She brushed a lock of hair from Emily's forehead. "Ems, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but you need to get the fuck off of this couch, babes. You look like a suicidal zombie." Emily glared at her. "Look, I'm not kidding around, Ems. You can be sad but don't be pathetic. I brought someone you might want to talk to."

"Hi, Emily." Sam's voice was cautiously peppy and annoying. Emily wanted to push her out the door.

"I don't want to talk to her," Emily said flatly.

Katie didn't back down. "You owe her an explanation at least. So get the fuck off this couch and start talking. Let us help for fuck's sake."

"Where's my soup?"

"Effy!" Katie roared.

Effy finally sauntered out of the kitchen two minutes later. She set the bowl of soup down on the coffee table with a soft clink. "Your Highness," she quipped to Katie, quirking an eyebrow.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Eat," she commanded.

Emily hastily ate a spoonful of her soup; it was good enough. "Katie, you have to help me," she said, dropping her spoon back in the bowl. "You know about the prophecy. I've tried everything I can think of to stop it, and Naomi's still going to die."

"Ems, there are just some things you can't change. You don't need to waste your life trying. You could, I don't know, do something really fucking crazy and come back to Bristol instead."

"I'm not asking you to fix my life, Katie," Emily snapped. "I'm just asking for your help with the prophecy."

"Yeah, well, _I'm _asking _you_—"

"You're not really in a position to be asking things, Katie. I didn't need you to come down here."

"You shouldn't exactly be asking things either, Emily," Sam said softly. "You certainly didn't ask when you fucked off to America."

"Look, Sam—" It came out harsher than she intended; Emily took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I've kind of got a lot on my plate; I don't know if I can deal with you right now."

Sam laughed bitterly. "I didn't realize I'd become someone you had to deal with."

Emily blushed. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Ems—"

"Are you going to tell me a way to defeat the prophecy, Katie? Because I don't really care to hear anything else."

Katie set her jaw. Emily couldn't really blame her for being pissed; she was probably missing a lot of shopping and partying right now. "I've had Kevin on it day and night, Ems. He's looked over absolutely everything at least ten times. There isn't any way to change it."

Emily flopped back against the couch; her feet came up and smacked the coffee table, almost knocking over the soup. "There's got to be something I can do."

"Are you sure you've asked everybody you can?"

* * *

"_What are we doing up here? This is fucking wobbly as shit."_

"_Just stay still and you'll be fine." _

_Effy had her eyes closed and a serene smile on her face; she was standing on a platform in the middle of the ocean, supported only by four precarious beams. She was swaying with the wind, twenty feet in the air, and she didn't seem at all perturbed by it._

_Emily shook her head._

"_Stop judging me," Effy said without opening her eyes. "Just stand."_

_Emily did as she was told; she stood and closed her eyes and tried not to think of falling. She planted her feet on the wooden planks, imagining they were sending fingers up her legs, forever joining her with the beams. She became a tree, rooted to the platform, and by extension, the sea. She was connected._

"_Open your eyes," Effy said calmly. Emily obeyed. "Do you know what you have to do?"_

"_Yes," Emily replied._

"_So what are you waiting for? Jump."

* * *

_"Ems? Hello? Can you, like, answer my question please?"

"Sorry, Katie. What were you saying?"

Katie heaved an extravagant sigh. "I said, are you absolutely sure there's no one left to talk to?"

"No," Emily said in sudden realization. "I mean, there is someone I can ask."

"Who?"

Emily looked at Katie unflinchingly. "Her mother."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Fighting the clock. Unsure of this one. Please enjoy and review.

* * *

**

There was a moment of silence before Katie exploded. "Ems, you can't be serious! This is insane. How are you going to talk to her mother? Last time I checked, you couldn't breathe underwater. You're not a fucking mermaid. And anyway…"

Emily tuned out the remainder of Katie's rant; instead, she rested her head on her hand and thought out her options. One, she could do nothing—stay above ground with Katie and Sam, live a monotonous but safe life. Two, she could find a way to visit Naomi and save her. Three, she could do neither, go to Mexico, and open a fucking taco stand. Or something similar that didn't involve breaking someone's heart. It wasn't a very happy option, but it beat the certain despair that came with the other two.

"Emily! Are you even listening to me?" Katie's hands were on her hips; she was fixing Emily with a deadly glare. Emily was unruffled.

"I have to save her, Katie. I don't know how to do anything else."

"Okay. So tell me—how do you plan to get down there? Gonna learn how to scuba dive in just a day, maybe even less?"

Emily stood and crossed her arms. "If I have to."

"You don't." Effy pushed herself off the wall and walked over to where Emily and Katie were standing. "I can get you down there."

"How?" Emily asked, her heart racing.

"You have to trust me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. This is ridiculous." Katie grabbed Emily by the elbow and dragged her away, motioning for Sam to follow. When they were out of earshot of Effy, she started speaking. "Ems, you've lost your fucking mind. You're risking your life here, do you understand that? You could actually die."

"I don't care," Emily retorted, trying not to sound petulant.

"Are you saying you want to die?"

"No," Emily clarified. "I'm saying I'm ready to."

"Insane. You're insane." Katie threw up her hands and stormed off; Emily could hear her arguing with Effy. Emily was left standing with Sam, probably the one person she didn't ever want to see.

"What a pair we are, huh?" Sam laughed awkwardly. "Both chasing the girl of our dreams, neither one of us going to get her."

Emily bristled. "You think I'm going to fail? Because I'm not."

Sam smiled patronizingly. "Emily, you're going up against supernatural forces, not to mention that, as amazing as you are, I don't think you could stop death. Katie filled me in a bit," she explained, seeing Emily's confused face. "I don't think you'll stop trying, though, which just makes me sad."

"Sam…"

"I could make you happy, Emily," Sam interjected, almost pleading. "We were good together; you can't deny that."

"Of course we were." _And with Naomi, I'd be great_, she thought.

Sam, who had never been good at reading people, didn't pick up on the sadness in Emily's eyes. She only heard the words, which, to her, were hopeful. "So you'll come back then."

Emily drew her eyebrows down in pity. "No, Sam. I'm sorry, but I can't. This is where I'm meant to be."

Sam sighed. "Where you're meant to be, Emily, is somewhere you're happy, somewhere you're safe and around people who care about you."

"People care about me here," Emily said indignantly. "Cook and Effy and Naoms—they all care about me."

"Emily,"—Sam tried to placate Emily with a comforting touch to the arm; Emily jumped away—"these people here barely know you. You may think they care, but you've hardly been here a month. I'm not saying that they're bad people, but they don't know anything about you. And this girl, Naomi—"

"You don't know anything about Naomi," Emily said heatedly.

"Neither do you, Emily!" Sam snapped back. "You, what, you meet her on a beach one night and four weeks later you're in love with her? Excuse me if I'm rude, but that's a little excessive. You don't know anything about her life except for what you've read in those myths, and they're myths for a reason. They're fictional."

"They're not," Emily protested softly. "I believe Naomi; I believe the things she can do."

"She's good at telling when people are lying, so suddenly she's a god? I don't think so, Emily."

"Please don't try to change my mind, Sam. It's not going to work."

"I'm not trying to change your mind, Emily. I'm just trying to make you see some sense," Sam huffed. "You've always been idealistic, and it's going to get you hurt right now. I'm telling you that you're not going to be able to save Naomi, and when you fail, you'll be twice as devastated as we found you this time. Your mum misses you; James misses you—we _all_ miss you. You can't just leave out of the blue and expect your family not to care. You owe us, Emily."

Emily sighed and ran her hands through her hair. This was why she didn't tell anyone that she left—because every single person in her life had a knack for making her feel guilty about choosing to act with only herself in mind. Sam wasn't totally wrong; it wasn't fair that Emily hadn't reached out earlier. If Katie or anyone else had done that to her, she'd be out of her mind with worry. But on some level, Emily knew it was ridiculous; she was a grown woman and she should be able to live however the fuck she wanted. But she had obligations, too, and Emily had spent most of her life trying as hard as she could to fulfill them. She had a bigger sense of duty than most people, and it wasn't like she always minded it. She liked it, for the most part. But it took its toll on her, too. The night before she left Sam, Emily had been in bed thinking. Sam was sleeping peacefully next to her, and Emily had been remembering what she'd done that day, planning what she wanted to do the next day. Around two in the morning, Emily had realized something very important—she hadn't done anything. _They _had. Emily was thinking of the good memories _they_ had, and what _they _were going to do tomorrow. And so two hours later Emily had found herself en route to the airport, doing something because she had thought of it.

"I'm sorry, Sam, that I didn't call you earlier. I'm sorry for anything I might have done to hurt you. But I can't go back to Bristol, to the life we had. It was killing me."

"And this isn't?"

"No. This gives me purpose. I'm sorry, Sam."

_You're running out of time_. Effy's voice screamed through her brain, jolting Emily out of her discussion. She gave Sam one more sympathetic look and rushed off to find Effy.

"I'm not leaving you, Emily," Sam yelled after her. "You're going to come back disappointed, and you're going to need someone to be there for you. That'll be me."

Emily barely paid her any attention; instead, she walked briskly through the house in search of the one person who was willing to help her. She found Effy sitting in her room with Katie. They were silent, but Katie looked considerably less deadly than she had when she first showed up.

"What do I need to do, Eff?" Emily blurted.

"I told you," she said gently. "You have to trust me."

"I do," Emily immediately replied.

Effy rose slowly from her bed. "Then let's go." She turned to Katie. "You're welcome to stay, Katie. I think you'd find Cook…interesting."

Katie acknowledged Effy with a nod of the head. She seemed to be intent on staying silent, but the second Emily turned to leave, Katie shot up and spun her back around. An almost feral glint was in her eyes. "You have to come back, okay? Anything happens to you and I'll swim down there and kill the bitch myself," she spat.

Emily smiled and hugged Katie tightly. "I'll be fine, Katie. I couldn't stay down there forever, as much as I might want to."

"I'd drag you up myself if I had to," Katie replied.

"I'd believe that," Emily said seriously. She turned back to Effy, who was waiting impatiently in the doorway.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Are you serious, Effy? I thought this was just a dream."

"Oh, you didn't think I'd let Naomi have all the fun with predictions for the future now, did you? You know what you have to do. So do it."

Emily looked down at the water from her perch on the too-familiar platform. It seemed much more daunting than it had when it was just a vision.

"You sure I won't drown?" Emily said, her voice quavering more than she wanted it to.

"You have to trust me," Effy simply repeated.

"And you can't come with me."

"Not welcome back, I'm afraid." The platform gave an almighty lurch, as if it would crumble any second. "You've got to make a choice, Emily, and you've got to do it now," Effy said sternly.

Emily walked to the edge of the platform and curled her toes around the edge. The wood was rough against her feet, but she welcomed the sensation. "If I don't," she yelled above the roar of the waves, "well, tell Katie and Sam…tell them—"

"I will," Effy yelled back. "Just go."

Emily took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Spreading her arms, she fell forward; her stomach swooped dangerously as she plummeted toward the water. She joined her hands above her head, trying to remember everything she'd learned in swim lessons and succeeding only clumsily. It felt like she fell for ages, the wind whipping her hair away from her face. She absently hoped there wasn't a rock or anything sharp positioned directly beneath her.

And then she hit the water and it was cold and engulfing; Emily was whirled into a frenzy of bubbles and wet; she had no grip on her bearings and she was too scared to open her eyes. She puffed her cheeks out and clawed her hands in every direction, trying in vain to find something to hold onto. She wasn't a creature of the water.

_Breathe_. Emily shook her head fiercely, rejecting Effy's demand. It was ludicrous; she'd never be able to breathe. _Listen to me_, Effy persisted. _I said you had to trust me. You need to breathe or you'll die._ Emily knew Effy was right; her head was tightening against the pressure and lack of oxygen. She let her cheeks lie slack and steeled herself to inhale a deep breath of water through her nose.

_No!_ Effy yelled. _Open your mouth. The first breath has to be through your mouth_. Emily's heart jumped into her throat, but she recovered and let her mouth hang open. She was conscious of the tiny bit of air she had left rushing out as she did so, and just when she thought she was going to pass out, she sucked in a gulp of water.

Only it wasn't water; it was, but it flowed through her like air. She could feel herself immediately perk up; her head cleared and she felt safe enough to open her eyes. She had to inhale deeply again when she finally did; the sea was much brighter and alive than she ever would have thought it could be. It was every shade of blue, and she could distinguish them all. She could feel small waves as fish passed her; the seaweed that danced on the seafloor sent up almost-invisible trains of bubbles that tickled her feet and fingers. Emily felt things from all sides; she felt them more acutely than she had ever felt on land.

She touched her arms and legs, making sure that everything had stayed intact in the fall. It was only then that she realized that she'd lost her socks, and her fingers and toes had webbed the slightest bit. She laughed in surprise; the sound was muffled, as if she had laughed into a cup. Emily kicked her legs experimentally and sent herself flying five feet upwards, prompting another bout of laughter. She did flips, taking full advantage of her newfound assets. Her shirt billowed out behind her like a cape, creating a tunnel for water to pass through. It felt like the waves were gently petting her.

_Calm down, Flipper_. Emily blushed and stopped moving, treading water softly to keep herself afloat. _You've got twelve hours; stay down even a minute past that and I can't help you. The castle is about an hour below you and to the right. Don't worry about getting lost; there are patches of kelp every fifteen yards or so. Just follow them and you'll be fine._

_This is amazing, Effy!_ Emily thought back.

_Don't waste any time. You've got a job to do, remember? I'll see you back on the surface_.

Emily flipped downward and began swimming, keeping a sharp eye out for any kelp. Twenty-four years as a human told her to start doing the freestyle stroke; five minutes underwater and her legs were undulating like a mermaid. They weren't fused, but they seemed not to want to stay apart. She instinctively pushed onward, flipping her feet as if they were a dolphin's tail, switching between keeping her arms at her side and using them for an extra burst of speed.

She spotted the first patch of kelp after thirty seconds or so; she kicked excitedly and spun clumsily off course, her eagerness to find the castle throwing off her balance. With every successive plant that she saw, the smile on her face widened.

She was on her way to Naomi.

* * *

Emily wanted to gasp at the sight of the structure in front of her. It wasn't just a castle or an impressive house; it was a palace. It was a fantasy. Every side of it gleamed; the waves reflected off its curves and sent glimmers of light in every direction. It looked like it was made out of two gigantic conch shells pressed together sideways; they curled and dipped in soft arcs. Emily could see windows at the very top of the palace; merpeople swam gracefully in and out of the archways. Emily had half a mind to follow them, but she didn't want to appear intrusive.

There was another shell on top of the castle; it looked like an elegant spire. The shell was more fluted than the conches; deep blue and purple hues contrasted against the soft pink of the main body. It had an air of royalty, emphasized by the balcony that sat eight feet from the top. Emily could almost envision Naomi standing regally, hands on the railing, giving speeches to loyal subjects. Her heart swelled with pride at the mere thought.

Emily stopped gawking at the palace long enough to swim to the entrance; it was marked not by a door but by what Emily could only call a tapestry of eels. They hung like warning signs, tails twitching a little too eagerly for Emily's comfort.

She was stopped by an octopus floating ominously in front of the eels. He was easily seven feet from his head to the tip of his tentacles. His eyes were black and bottomless, but Emily had a feeling he could read her better than most people. Emily was mesmerized by the presence he seemed to exude.

"What is your purpose here?" Emily felt the words more than heard them; his deep voice rumbled through her chest.

"Erm, to see Epithumiandra," she stuttered. "My name is Emily."

"Emily of the surface?" Emily nodded. "Her Majesty has been expecting you. Come." He swept a tentacle languidly in front of the eels; they parted, leaving a hole just wide enough for Emily to swim through. She did so quickly, not wanting to chance being stung.

The inside was even more entrancing than the outside, if that was even possible. Everything was made of beautifully-colored glass; it was as if lightning had struck the seafloor and contorted the sand into irregular, elegant shapes. Various animals and citizens of the sea flitted around freely, drifting in between rooms and under archways. Crabs skittered along the floor, delivering messages to what looked like various members of the nobility; their dress was far more polished than anyone else, flowing off them as Emily recalled Naomi's flowing off her. She blushed at the memory.

The octopus twirled and pointed two tentacles to a corridor toward the back of the first floor; Emily followed it all the way to the end and stopped in front of a rounded door, split down the middle into two slabs. She knocked hesitantly on the smooth rock.

"Come in," a voice called cheerily from inside. Emily heaved a giant breath before slowly pushing the door open.

The woman in the room was sitting with her back to the door; her short blond hair was cut in a stately bob that sat just below her jaw. Emily didn't have to see her face to know that this was Naomi's mother; she stood with the same poise that her daughter did. Emily wondered if that was an effect of the powers or if they were just extremely similar.

Epithumiandra turned around and smiled peacefully; her blue eyes were a perfect match to Naomi's, if only slightly greyer. She wore a regal robe with a strange emblem on the front, that of a trident poking through the middle of a crown. Her face was soft and welcoming; it reminded Emily so much of Naomi that she began to grow a little wary, remembering Naomi's unpredictable moods.

"Emily," Epithumiandra trilled invitingly. "So glad to finally meet you."

"Er, same to you, your Highness," Emily fumbled. She had no idea of the proper decorum for interacting with royalty.

Epithumiandra frowned. "Oh, please, call me Gina," she said, cringing. "Your Majesty, your Highness, Epithumiandra…they all sound terribly formal and stuffy."

"Gina?" Emily exclaimed. "But that's a human name."

"Yes, well, I've had my fair share of human interactions, and it seemed pretty enough. It's Greek, did you know that? It means 'well-born.' I figure no one else wants to be me, so I must be well-born."

Emily couldn't help smiling. "Okay, Gina it is. Hi, Gina."

Gina's smile widened. "Hello, Emily."

"It's really quite a lovely palace you've got here," Emily said inanely.

Gina laughed softly. "Oh, you don't need to make small talk with me, dear. I know why you're here. I assume my lovely daughter hasn't told you much about me? I happen to be a very touchy subject for her."

"Well," Emily squirmed, "Naomi didn't tell me, no. But I know much more than you might think. There was this book, you see…" Emily trailed off, hoping Gina would catch her drift. She didn't feel like explaining everything again. Living it was draining enough.

"Oh, that damned book! Well, shit," Gina sighed. "I thought I'd tracked down every copy of that. I meant to get rid of them."

"Why?"

Gina sat down at a long table and motioned for Emily to join her. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, being immortal. We've got responsibilities just like you, only ours tend to cover a broader spectrum. One of those responsibilities is making sure that the human and the supernatural world rarely interact."

"Why?" Emily felt like a broken record, but she truly didn't understand the problem with crossing worlds. Sure, Naomi's life was in danger, and sure, Emily stood to lose the one person she could probably love forever—however long that forever turned out to be—but she was better for it.

"You humans live more peacefully when you don't know higher powers exist."

"That's not true," Emily argued. "We've got more religions that we know what to do with. Certainly more than we need."

"But each of those religions is centered around a theory, around the _idea_ of a messiah or savior or specific deity. Very rarely is there any hard, factual evidence. Human minds are most content when they have the capacity for blind faith."

"Awfully cynical of you, Gina," Emily said, surprised at her companion's directness.

"Oh, I don't want you to think I view humans as inferior. I don't, actually; I admire your resilience and unpredictability. And, you know, there's a tiny sense of ownership; I am your creator, after all." Gina winked. "There are a lot of unhappy people in this world, Emily. I should know; I can see them all. All of them have had some kind of identity crisis in their lives, and I'm willing to bet that at least half of those were rooted in tests of faith, or they simply threw out the whole idea of faith in the first place."

Emily wasn't swayed. "I don't know, Gina. I've had my dark moments, and I can't say that religion had anything to do with it."

"Who said anything about religion?" Gina countered. "I was talking about faith. When you went through your dark moments, why were you unhappy?"

Emily craned her neck in thought. "Because people let me down. Because I realized that sometimes you just can't do enough. Because I realized that you can't fix everyone. Because sometimes the best intentions can lead to the absolute worst consequences."

Gina smiled triumphantly. "And the one time you've been the absolute happiest you could ever be? When was that?"

Emily didn't have to think about that for a second. "Whenever I'm with Naomi," she said.

"Why? Couldn't she let you down? Couldn't she disappoint you? She's not exactly the world's most accommodating person."

"No," Emily drawled, thinking out loud. "I know that Naomi would eventually rectify any mistake she made. We might not end up together, but she would make sure that I got answers, some kind of closure. She wouldn't leave us broken, even if we were apart."

"You can't possibly know that for certain," Gina argued.

"Of course I can," Emily immediately retorted. "I believe her. I believe in her."

"There it is!" Gina cried victoriously. "When you're with Naomi, you're happy, and you're happy because you believe in her. Because you have faith." Emily opened her mouth to object, and then realized she couldn't. Gina smirked. "I may have thieved my way into omniscience, but that doesn't mean I'm not good at it."

"I see where she gets it from," Emily quipped wryly.

"What?"

"The self-righteousness." Gina laughed. "It still doesn't help me save her, though."

"Oh, love, you didn't come down here expecting an instruction manual, did you? We're gods, dear. We write instruction manuals, ignore them, and tear them to smithereens. You'll have to save my daughter on your own, I'm afraid."

"Is it even possible?" Emily asked fearfully. The one question that everyone had been asking her, the one question that Emily had been too afraid to admit she had been asking herself, came out of her in small words, in hushed tones of voice that made her lips quiver.

Gina reached over the table and clasped Emily's hand comfortingly. "It all comes down to you and whether or not you're able to make Naomi believe."

"In what?" Emily hissed in frustration.

"In you. In life. In everything."

"What if I can't?" Emily whispered. "Am I supposed to just go back to real life and be miserable?"

Gina smiled sympathetically. "I can only tell you that sometimes you've got to take a chance. The people who make us happy are never the people you expect. So when you find someone, you've got to cherish it."

Emily sighed heavily. "I don't know, Gina. It sounds all wonderful and terribly romantic when you put it that way, but there's still a giant margin for failure."

"That's not going to go away, Emily," Gina said, chuckling sadly. "If you still want to try to find more answers, there's a temple devoted to my lovely mother you could visit."

"Where is it?"

"My other children can help you find it. It's somewhere on or near the beach; I don't know how the land has shifted these last few eons." Gina looked at Emily with sad eyes. "We may be a dysfunctional one, but family's family. We're all hopelessly devoted to each other. Some of us just don't fully realize it—or want to."

"Thanks, Gina," Emily scooted her chair back and got up slowly, her head heavy from the maelstrom of thoughts that had yet to settle in her mind.

Gina turned her chair to face a window, leaving her back to Emily. "Find my daughter first, though."

"And just where might she be?"

"I don't know where she is half the time anymore. But she's a hider, my Naomi. She's a hider, and she likes the stars."

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

The answer Emily wanted to give was, "Not a lot," second only to "Prancing around your room in the top of this spire to see if I could walk like a normal person," and at least three places above, "Counting how many times your guard-swordfish circle the castle in an hour. It's five, if you wanted to know."

What she said instead was simply, "Hi."

"Did Effy send you?" Naomi sat gracefully on an armchair, shaming Emily with her practiced sense of balance.

"Yes. No," Emily corrected. "I wanted to see you. Effy just helped me get down here."

"That's my sister—always interfering."

"Oh, I don't know; seems to run in the family to me." Naomi glanced sharply at Emily. "Had a lovely chat with your mum," she explained. "Your whole family wants you to live, Naomi."

"Funny, Gina seems to be perfectly fine with the idea of not dying."

"She loves you."

"She loves herself more."

"I love you the most." Emily heard Naomi suck in the tiniest of gasps. "And I want you to live. So I'm going to try and save you."

"Emily…" Naomi whined.

"Cook and Effy told me how they became human." Emily changed tactics at the speed of light. "Could you do it?" she asked softly. "Could you kill me?"

Naomi's eyes welled up with tears. "Of course not," she rasped. "I couldn't…Jesus, did you think I actually could?"

"Of course not," Emily echoed. "So I'm going to spare you the pain of making that choice. You're not going to die, Naomi."

Naomi averted her eyes quickly; she sniffled loudly and swatted at her eyes, trying to hide her pain. But where Naomi was a hider, Emily was a watcher, and she watched Naomi's fingers shake; she watched Naomi's stomach tremble as her mortality hit her in gasping bursts of realization.

"C'mere, Naoms," Emily quietly commanded. Naomi rose slowly, still batting at her cheeks and avoiding eye contact; she sat down next to Emily and flopped her head on Emily's shoulders. Emily held her as she cried heaving sobs; she kissed the top of Naomi's head and whispered soothing words. She let Naomi clutch roughly at her back; she didn't move at all when the blonde's shoulder blade dug sharply into her chest. She simply sat there and let Naomi feel.

Eventually Naomi calmed down and Emily pushed her gently onto the bed, curling up beside her and laughing softly when Naomi immediately pulled her close. She listened as Naomi's breathing evened out. When Emily was fairly sure that Naomi was asleep, she turned over—slowly, so as not to wake her—and just looked at her. She looked miserable; her face was pale and tired, streaked with tear tracks that were at least a few days old. Even in sleep her brow was furrowed, the worry lines on her forehead all too apparent. Emily ran a hand over them, trying to smooth them out, erase them forever.

"How do you deal with it?" Naomi's voice, though it was barely more than a murmur, made Emily jump slightly.

"Deal with what, Naoms?"

"Death."

Emily sighed and kissed Naomi's forehead. "We don't," she said. "Not until after it happens, anyway. It's not something we like to talk about. It's scary."

"I know." Naomi opened her eyes; they were pain and pleas and futility. "Why do you want to save me?"

Emily pulled Naomi's hand away from her neck and placed it gently on her chest. "Because I don't want you to be something I deal with, Naomi. I want you to be someone I live with, preferably for a very long time."

"You can't give me life, Emily."

"No," Emily agreed. "But I can show it to you."

"What?"

Emily pressed her lips to Naomi's; she kissed her completely, gently, with every inch of meaning she could muster. She pushed herself softly on top of Naomi, sliding her shirt down in one fluid motion. Naomi brought her hands up to the back of Emily's neck, but Emily moved them slowly away; this was Naomi's time to listen. She kissed her way slowly down Naomi's neck, sucking at the soft skin. She was acutely aware of everything that was happening, of the sharp inhales that came from Naomi when Emily hit a sensitive spot; of the way Naomi's back arched when Emily began to dance her fingers over the blonde's stomach. She was aware of the sweat slowly forming on Naomi's torso; she was aware of the pure emotion radiating from Naomi's eyes when Emily chanced a glance upward. She was aware of the chest that heaved when Emily covered Naomi's left breast with her mouth, possessing it, cherishing it. She was aware of the legs that needed her, squirming with increasing frequency at every touch. Naomi was one moan away from begging.

And so when Emily went down on her, it wasn't about fucking her or even loving her. It was about showing her slowly, deliberately, the life she could have. It was about making her a promise that Emily was the right choice. Because there was always a choice, and with every lick, Emily was saying, "Look what you could have if you chose me." With every suck, Emily was telling Naomi stories of the best parts of life; with every flick, Emily was asking Naomi to feel even a tenth of what Emily felt. And when Naomi screamed and bucked her hips, Emily knew she was listening.

Emily waited for Naomi to recover; she crawled her way back up and pushed a piece of hair from Naomi's face; it clung to her cheek. Tears were coursing freely from beneath Naomi's closed eyes; some dripped off her chin, others snaking their way down to her collarbone before melting into her skin. Emily kissed all of them away.

"I'm sorry, Emily," Naomi cried. "I'm so sorry."

Emily silenced her with a soft kiss. "It's okay, Naoms. Don't apologize."

"No, I have to," Naomi continued. "It's all my fault."

"Naomi, look at me. Hey—open your eyes." Naomi did, looking guiltily at Emily. "You've done nothing wrong, Naoms."

Naomi moaned piteously. "Oh, yes I have," she whimpered. "I knew you were coming," she continued, answering Emily's silent question. "I could feel you when you jumped in the water. So I slowed down time." Emily looked quickly around for a clock; the one on Naomi's wall supported Naomi's statement; only an hour had passed since Emily had jumped off the platform. "I bent time, and now I can't go back with you."

"Naomi, you're not making any sense."

Naomi sat up in bed. "You came down here to save me," she prompted.

"Yes."

"And you want me to go up to the surface with you."

"Eventually," Emily clarified. "I mean, we've still got eleven hours."

"That's not what I meant, Emily," Naomi gently chided.

"I know."

"You want me to come up to the surface with you now, so you can keep an eye on me."

"So you can stay with me forever when you survive this," Emily corrected.

Naomi began crying in earnest again. "And what happens when I don't survive? What will you do?"

"Irrelevant. You're going to be fine."

Naomi choked back a sob. "And that's why I can't come with you. Because I might not be fine. Because dying by your side would destroy you, and I can't knowingly cause you that pain."

Emily stood up slowly, her eyes wide and unblinking. "Are you…is this it, then? Just like that."

Naomi blushed and looked down in shame. "Like I said, I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Emily was crying tears of her own, thick, heavy tears that felt like two-ton weights on her face. "Don't make this a goodbye, Naomi. We're worth more than that."

Naomi shifted on the bed and turned her back to Emily. "I love you, too," she mumbled; Emily almost didn't hear it over the pounding in her chest. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, so I'm going to be the one to save you."

Emily swam away.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: We're wrapping up here, folks. 4 more chapters after this one. Start preparing.

* * *

**

Emily followed the patches of kelp until they stopped; she wasn't completely sure of how long she'd been swimming. The water had turned cold almost immediately, and yet Emily hadn't been able to stop. Each swatch of green had been one more reminder of Naomi's rejection, a reminder that Emily wasn't enough—that Naomi was too fucking noble to live. Taken in a figurative light, that qualification might actually be a compliment. As it was, to Emily's chagrin, Naomi just had to make it literal.

The sand beneath Emily's feet had taken a sharp upward turn; dragged out of her thoughts, Emily cursed every time her knees bumped into the compact banks. She wasn't ready to leave the water just yet, despite the tragic turn of events that had taken place beneath its depths. She looked down at her fingers and toes; they were losing their fusion. Emily clenched her jaw and focused her mind, trying in vain to stop them from separating.

Instead, without realizing it, she popped her head above water. Emily was so surprised at the sudden change that she instinctively sucked in a breath and held it there, wanting to preserve her life for a few more precious seconds. It was only after she realized that she could stand above the waves that Emily let go. It was just air—familiar, cool, stupid air.

Emily trudged her way to the beach, her pants slopping noisily against the water and the ground. Evidently, Effy's powers stopped just short of keeping her dry. She flipped her hair away from her face; it contorted into a clumpy tendril. Emily wanted nothing more than to wipe her hands off on something—anything—but every part of her was wet.

Emily sighed and looked around, trying to ascertain where she was on the beach. When Effy had taken her to the platform, they had swum straight out from the spot that she and Naomi used as a marker for their late-night meetings. But nothing that Emily recognized from that spot—the rock that never moved; the tiny patch of sand forever pockmarked with crab holes—caught her eye. In fact, as she moved closer to the street, she could see the pizza place that Cook and Effy loved. She knew that was at least a fifteen minute walk from their apartment. The only thing she could do was turn on her heels and walk barefoot back to warmth in the middle of the night.

The wind had cooled considerably since Emily had emerged from the ocean; she hugged her arms closer to her torso, wet fabric tightening onto more wet fabric, which only made her colder. Her hair was plastered to her face, except for when an exceptionally strong gust of wind blew it away from her cheeks and slapped it back twice as hard. The pavement was cold and rough against her feet; Emily adopted a manner of skipping that kept her on the balls of her feet and minimized any chance of injury. She couldn't stop laughing as she stumbled home, knowing how crazy she had to appear to any passersby. The only spot of luck was that there weren't any.

It felt like the longest walk that Emily had ever taken, and yet she was surprised to find herself standing in front of Cook's ostentatious door far sooner than she'd expected. She took a deep breath before turning the knob, knowing that she had to prepare for a fresh wave of disappointment, and maybe even some self-righteousness.

The house was empty as she walked in. The sheets on the couch were just as tousled as she had left them; her bowl of soup sat forgotten on the coffee table. _Katie's always been shit at cleaning_, she scoffed inwardly. Every light on the first floor was out; the house was deathly still. Emily was unnerved by the silence.

"Hello?" she called out softly. "Eff, Katie? Look, I know it's late, you guys, but I'm back."

No one answered. Emily huffed and made her way upstairs, trying not to stamp just in case they actually were sleeping. She checked Cook's room, feeling more than a little uncomfortable—she'd never been in there before. Emily felt like she was intruding, but there was no one to intrude upon. The room was barely a room anyway; it was bare except for a forlorn, full-size mattress on a pathetic frame and a tiny desk and chair. The walls were void of any color, save for the faded, oversized green shirt that was tacked to the wall across from Cook's bed.

Effy's room was empty, too, and Emily was starting to get worried. She could understand if Cook or Effy were out of the house—they had things to do (though Emily had never exactly figured out what it was that Effy actually did). But Katie and Sam should have been home; where else were they going to go in the middle of a town full of strangers?

Emily walked to the end of the hallway and slid back the fake wall, hoping that her last resort wasn't just another dead end. She was relieved when she saw all four of them sitting on the roof, their backs to her. Cook had his head down between his knees, hands interlocked on the back of his skull. Katie was sitting close to Sam, her head resting on Sam's left shoulder. Sam had her arm wrapped around Katie's back. Effy sat stiffly away from everyone else, her back flat as a board. They were all facing the sidewalk; Emily was sure they must have seen her come in the door.

Emily smirked as Effy turned around; of course she was the first one to notice her. However, her face fell when she saw Effy's expression. She was devastated. Her eyes were puffy and red; tear tracks stained her pale cheeks. Emily couldn't tear her eyes away from Effy's or even make a sound. She was too surprised at the devastation in Effy's expression.

"Jesus Christ." Katie scrambled to her feet and flung herself at Emily, knocking them both back a few steps. Before Emily could get out so much as a word, Katie had slapped her across the face—hard.

"What the fuck, Katie? Nice to see you, too," Emily sneered.

"Oh, don't give me that. Thanks for fucking coming back so quickly. That's the last time I let you go for a three-day swim."

"Three days? But I was…" Emily was dumbfounded; she'd known Naomi had slowed down time, but there was no way she'd altered it that much. There was no way Emily had been underwater for three days. Naomi knew Emily had people waiting for her on the surface; she wouldn't have purposely made them worry.

"How did you do it?" Effy asked softly. Her voice was raw and raspy, like she had cried for a very long time and then decided to stop using it. "There's no way you should be alive right now."

"Um…" Emily cleared her throat. "It wasn't me, actually," she stammered. "Naomi did it. She bent time."

"She what?" Katie blurted.

Effy waved a hand dismissively. "She bent time. It's a thing we can do. Well, a thing Cook and I used to be able to do. We usually can't do it for that long, though." Effy fixed Emily with a piercing glare. "Are you sure that's all she did?"

"I don't know. I think so?" Emily guessed. "We didn't…we didn't really do much talking." Emily blushed. She was glad that Sam was still sitting down. Without Katie by her side, Sam looked very small and lonely. Emily was suddenly awash with an intense feeling of guilt.

"Guys, could you just give me and Sam a moment?" she asked. Effy and Cook nodded and cleared out quickly; Katie tipped her head warningly at Emily. "I'll be nice, Katie. Wait for me and we'll talk?" Katie nodded reluctantly.

Emily sat silently next to Sam; her clothes were still wet and were starting to stiffen on her body.

"I thought you'd died," Sam whispered.

"I didn't know I was down there that long," Emily answered apologetically. "I'm sorry you were worried." She covered Sam's hand with hers, taking care not to make any eye contact.

"Did you save her, then?"

"No," Emily murmured. "Still working on it, though."

Sam smiled sadly and brushed a lock of hair from Emily's eyes. "You're freezing," she said before getting up and digging a blanket from the chest by the door. She wrapped it around Emily's shoulders. The warmth was immediate; Emily tugged it snugly around her body and gave Sam a small smile of thanks.

"I'm sorry that it looks like I was right," Sam said. "I don't actually want to say 'I told you so.'"

Emily laughed. "No, it's okay. You _were_ right. At least for now. I haven't found out how to stop death yet."

"Maybe because it can't be done?" Sam suggested softly.

"It can be done," Emily disagreed. "Gina—er, Naomi's mum—told me so."

"And you believe her?"

"I have to," Emily sighed. "I have to, Sam. Naomi has to be okay."

Sam tugged her hand from beneath Emily's. "Did you fuck her?"

Emily didn't shy away from Sam's eyes. "Yes," she said without a trace of shame. "If you want to know, I fucked JJ, too."

Sam scrunched her eyebrows. "Who the hell is JJ?"

"He's my boss."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Should have known," Sam scoffed. Emily let it slide. "I wish—"

"I'm not going back with you and Katie, Sam," Emily interrupted.

"I wasn't going to say that," Sam softly admonished. "I was going to say that I wish you hadn't ended up so disappointed."

Emily dropped her head onto Sam's shoulder and cried until her hot tears turned cold.

* * *

Effy, Cook, and Katie were waiting somewhat impatiently in the living room; when Emily came downstairs, Katie darted to her side and grabbed her arm in a vice. Emily was about to make a sarcastic comment, but she held herself to a healthy roll of the eyes. It was nice that Katie was concerned.

"Where's Sam?" Katie asked.

"Still on the roof. She said she wanted some time to think." Katie threw her a disapproving look. "I'm sorry, Katie, but I couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear."

"This bitch better be as far from death as a baby or we're about to have words," Katie grumbled.

Emily's cheeks flushed. "She's still dying. She won't let me save her, and Gina wouldn't give me a straight answer."

Effy huffed bitterly. "Gina never gives a straight answer. I could have told you that."

"So why didn't you?" Emily shot back in frustration.

"I wasn't sure she'd even speak to you, to be honest. She's not exactly the most helpful person in this world."

"Seemed like she genuinely wanted to help me," Emily argued.

"Then you don't know the whole story." Effy was steadfast in her objections. "What exactly did she tell you about Naomi?"

Emily racked her brain, trying to remember her conversation with Gina. It seemed like her mind was finally feeling the three days that she'd lost, now that she was back on dry land. "That the key to saving Naomi was in my ability to make her believe in life. That I have to save Naomi on my own and I have to take a risk to do so."

"Well, that's not so helpful," Effy commented. "If all you had to do was make her believe, she wouldn't be dying anymore."

Emily's eyes lit up as she remembered another part of Gina's advice. "She also said that there was a temple or something close by? She said I could go and talk to your grandparents."

Effy frowned uncertainly. She appeared hesitant to speak and Emily's blood started to boil. This was not the time for hesitancy.

"Hey, Red. Calm down, man." Cook sensed her rising ire and walked toward her slowly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't know if you want to go visit there. You don't get information you want from my dear old gran without also learning something you don't want to know. It's not really the best idea."

"Do you have another idea?" Emily barked. She immediately winced at her harsh tone. "I'm sorry, Cook. I don't mean to snap. I'm just running out of options."

"I think you've already run out of options, Emily," Effy said softly.

"Until I hear those words come out of your grandmother's mouth, Eff, I haven't." Effy nodded and backed down. Emily looked at Cook, who seemed to more amenable to helping her. "Take me there, please."

* * *

The temple was little more than a pile of ruins in the middle of a park; it was no more than five hundred yards behind the beach, down toward the end that no one visited because it was populated mostly by rocks. Emily guessed that no one had ever bothered to figure out just what the rocks were.

At one point, they had clearly been arranged in some kind of ovular shape; as it was, after years and years of erosion, they had crumbled and lost a ceiling, leaving the 'temple' with two feeble, rounded walls that Cook, Effy, Katie, and Emily were just able to squeeze between. It wasn't a very large temple. There was a circle engraved into the middle of the floor; it contained the emblem that Emily had seen on Gina's robes.

Emily had no idea what to do; when they had stepped into the temple, Cook and Effy had bowed their heads and clasped their hands in front of them. Katie had no idea either, but she would die before anyone knew that, so she'd quickly copied their actions. Emily had to chuckle at her need for decorum. Still, it was proving rather problematic—they weren't responding to any of Emily's questions.

Emily slid two steps forward into the center of the circle. "Hello?" she started feebly. "Excuse me, Cruenterrex? I know I'm only a human, but I've got some questions that I'm hoping you could answer." Nothing. "Look, I know you're probably not the biggest fan of your grandchildren, but"—a tiny rumble shook the floor, making pebbles clatter against the stone—"Well, they're only trying to help, and I'd really appreciate it if you could, too." A second rumble came; this one was strong enough to knock Emily off balance. She fell hard onto the floor, without any grace. Her hair fell down in front of her eyes. "I'm not going to leave," she said as she blew it away. "I know you're a bloody bastard, but I'll stay here until you talk to me!"

"Insolent mortal!" a voice boomed from above her; Emily, who had been on the verge of standing up, shrank down again. "Who are you to speak to me this way?"

"I just want some answers!" Emily shouted. "I don't understand why Nao—Arnithusia has to die!"

"It is not for you to understand, human! Arnithusia's fate was decided before you were even born."

"So undecide it!"

Cruenterrex laughed malevolently. "My granddaughter asked the same thing of me when she first learned of her mother's mortality. I shall not bend when asked a second time."

"There's got to be a way to save her!" Emily cried, stamping her foot indignantly.

"Your protestations are useless, child. Arnithusia cannot live with you."

Emily ran a hand through her hair. "Look, just give me more time and I'll come with a solution," she pleaded. "Just give me a day or so. I can save her; I know it."

Cruenterrex's voice was an unfeeling hiss. "There is no more time—or did my daughter not inform you of that fact?"

Emily's heart missed a beat. "What? Did Gina—Epithumiandra knows something?"

"Of course I do, dear," Gina's voice cooed. It echoed behind Emily; she whipped her head around, trying to face it.

"Gina, what are you talking about? What didn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Emily." Gina sounded genuine, but Emily's stomach had begun to sink. "I knew that Naomi would want you to stay with her for as long as possible. I could feel her slow down time, so I helped her out a little bit."

Emily's eyes widened in realization. "You're the one who made it possible for me to stay under for three days. But…why?"

"Emily, love, if Naomi dies, I'm free to rule my kingdom without any repercussions. I can't pass up an opportunity like that."

"She was the one who saved you!" Emily screamed; she could feel her throat go raw. "How can you possibly do that to her?"

"I never asked her to trade her life for mine, Emily. I'd have preferred it if she hadn't. Now I have a chance to rectify that."

Emily swallowed another shout; it would do no good to yell at Gina when she could be using her time more productively. Instead, she sniffled and wiped tears angrily from her face. "Fine," she said, her voice hard and determined. "How much time do I have?"

"Five hours," Gina said calmly. There was a giant quake; the walls of the temple shook dangerously. Emily stood her ground this time and looked at Effy, Cook, and Katie; their shocked faces stared blankly back at her.

Emily waited one more moment before she took off running.


	20. Chapter 20

Emily ran as fast as she could, not caring that her feet were slapping onto unforgiving pavement. She didn't pay a lick of attention to Cook, Effy, and Katie screaming behind her. She ran the short distance to the beach, her heart pounding in her chest. Emily flew from sidewalks to streets, recklessly hopping fences and curbs. She stumbled across the sand, her feet simultaneously digging in too far and not enough. She stopped just short of the water, skidding and fanning her arms in large circles.

Someone was suddenly next to her, huffing heavily. "Ems, it's over," Katie panted. "What more can you do?"

Emily looked quickly to her left and right, hands on her hips as she searched for any glimpse of silvery-blond. "I don't know, Katie, but I've got just under five hours to figure it out."

"Emily." Katie grabbed her arms, putting a stop to Emily's frantic pacing. "Emily, listen to me—you're not thinking this through. I can't believe I'm the sensible one here, but, like, she could still be underwater for all you know. If she is, you'll never see her again. And if she isn't, what are you going to do: sit on the beach and watch her die? That's terrible."

Emily stopped and looked at Katie. "If this was you, Katie, wouldn't you want someone with you? Think of how incredibly lonely she must be right now."

Katie's face contorted into a reluctantly defeated expression of indignation. "God, you're so fucking compassionate," she grumbled.

"Red!" Cook called from behind her; he and Effy came jogging to a stop next to Katie. "Red, I'm sorry, man; I don't—"

"How can we help?" Effy interjected.

"You and Cook check to the right, Katie and I will go left. Eff, tell me if you find her?" Effy nodded and took off jogging, dragging a bewildered Cook along with her. Emily didn't even bother to grab Katie's arm; she knew her twin wouldn't be far behind.

"Jesus Christ, Ems, could you slow down a bit?"

"This is the woman I'm madly in love with, Katie. You're lucky I'm not sprinting. What time is it?"

"Oh, let me just pull out the phone that I didn't bring because I rushed off from Bristol at five in the fucking morning, worried to bits about my baby sister."

"Not helping, Katie."

"I don't know, it was about one fifteen when we left for the temple? That was, what half an hour ago?" Katie guessed.

Emily missed a step, almost falling down in the cool sand. It boggled her mind to think that this would all be over by 7:00 in the morning. What was she supposed to with the rest of her day—or even the rest of her _life_—if things didn't work out? How was she supposed to face everyone else? What would Cook or Effy or Katie say? And, Emily thought with an embarrassed flip of her stomach, what would Sam say? She was probably still sitting on the roof, wondering where everyone had gone. Emily idly wondered how awkward Sam must be feeling at the moment.

Emily didn't know when she'd slowed to a walk, but she must have because Katie was at her side, glancing nervously up at her every few moments.

"What's so special about this one, then?"

"Oh, don't sound all judgmental. You asked me the same thing about Sam, and now look at you two. I think you love her more than I do at the moment."

"You told me Sam made you feel happy, so what more could Naomi possibly do? Make you feel superhuman?" Emily didn't mind Katie's slightly-mocking words; she knew that they came from a place of concern.

"No," Emily said simply. "Naomi makes me feel like I matter."

"Bullshit, you were _all_ that mattered to Sam."

Emily stopped and threw Katie an exasperated look. "There's a difference, Katie, and it's a big one."

_We've got her. She looks fine_.

Emily spun on her heels at the sound of Effy's voice. "Come on," she motioned to Katie, walking briskly in the other direction. "Eff said they've got her."

Katie rolled her eyes and sighed. "This bitch better be fucking gorgeous," she said, grabbing Emily's hand and dragging her at a run.

"She is rather beautiful," Emily muttered to herself.

They ran for a good two minutes; after one, Emily could see Effy and Cook standing next to Naomi, who was sitting on the sand. They were blurry figures at first, but Emily could feel Naomi looking at her the entire time. Emily picked up the pace and looked right back.

Effy pulled Naomi up to her feet when Emily and Katie got close; she whispered something in Naomi's ear as she gave her a brief but loving hug. Cook, for his part, threw himself at Naomi and buried his face in her neck. Naomi grasped the back of his head gently and closed her eyes. Emily watched as Cook's shoulders heaved. She dropped Katie's hand and walked slowly toward the pair of broken siblings.

Naomi caught Emily's eye as she comforted Cook, who didn't seem to want to let go. She nodded and gently pried his hands from her back. Naomi cupped his cheeks and found his eyes with hers. "James," she said reassuringly. "It's okay. I love you, yeah? So it's okay." She kissed him softly on the forehead. Cook nodded and batted at his eyes with the back of his hand before walking over to Effy and slumping down in the sand. Effy didn't move, but Katie bent down and rubbed his back.

And Emily was left with Naomi; she was left with a surprisingly serene blonde who didn't look too worse for the wear, except for maybe being a little tired.

"Are you okay?" Emily blurted. She had always worried when people were sick, and dying was pretty much the same as sick, right? "Do you need water, or should you, I don't know, sit down or something?"

Naomi's laugh was lilting; it burbled from a throat filling with emotion in spite of the calm glint to her eyes. "No, it's okay, Emily. I'm just dying; I'm not violently ill. But we can sit down if you want to." She lowered herself to the ground and patted the spot next to her.

She grabbed two thermoses that Emily hadn't noticed at first and passed one to Emily. "Brought you some tea, if you want it," she explained. "I thought, you know, you kept me warm with giant thermoses of hot beverages, that it wouldn't be right if I didn't repay the favor." She offered it to Emily with a proud smile.

Emily took the thermos in silence, not really knowing what to say. She didn't know how to react to this Naomi—it was such a different Naomi from the one Emily had seen in the castle. She was confident and peaceful, if a little emotional. She wasn't agonizing over mistakes or pulling away from Emily. It was such an abrupt mood change that Emily couldn't seem to form words. She couldn't seem to form any kind of coherent thoughts.

"Thanks," she finally said.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, Emily. I'm not going to burst into flames or anything. We can just sit like we have done before."

"But this isn't like any time we've sat before, Naoms," Emily quietly protested. "This might be the last time we sit like this. Ever."

"It is the last time," Naomi confirmed. Emily winced.

"And you're okay with that?" Emily challenged.

Naomi shook her head slowly. "No. But I am okay with spending as much with you as I possibly can."

"Naomi…"

"It's okay, Emily," Naomi said comfortingly. She clasped Emily's fingers with her free hand. "You can't save me, and I don't blame you. I don't blame you in the slightest. Maybe if you'd had more time, you would have found some way, but…"

"But then your mum got there first," Emily finished.

"That she did," Naomi said with a sad smile. "I can't fault Gina for how she acted—say what you will about her, but she's incredibly consistent. And if nothing else, at least she gave me five perfect hours. Well, four now," she corrected, looking at her watch.

"I don't understand how you can be so nonchalant about all of this," Emily said, angrily flinging a particularly solid blob of sand.

Naomi took the thermos out of Emily's hands and put it off to the side, far enough away from them both so it wouldn't get knocked over. She shifted in the sand so she was facing Emily, sitting cross-legged; they were almost touching. Emily focused all of her love into her kneecaps.

Naomi took Emily's right hand into both of hers. "Do you know why I even spoke to you that first day?" Emily shook her head. "I'd had to pull two members of the nobility off each other in the morning—one of them was convinced the other had stolen his prized pearl. I got so fed up with everything that I swam up to shore. I spent most of the afternoon hiding under a tree and finally came out of hiding when the clouds covered the sun. It's only direct sunlight that's dangerous; I don't know what I would have done if it had been a bright day. Gone back to waiting, I suppose.

Anyway, I spent my time brooding on the beach, wondering why people always seemed to take the answers I had for granted. I got sick of everything. And then I heard you pull up in your car. I watched you for longer than you might think; you cursed when you slammed the door on your seatbelt. It took you four tries to close it properly. When you finally got it right, you trounced down to the beach and just sat there. I approached you because you were fed up, too; you were sick of the expectations. It was radiating off you in waves. Well, that was one reason."

"What was the other one?"

Naomi smiled wistfully. "The way you were looking at the water. Like it had answers or something. You were looking at it like it might tell you the secrets to happiness. I had to laugh, you know, because here I was, princess of the sea with all the secrets in the world, and I didn't know the first thing about happiness. When I looked at you that first day, you didn't change your expression at all. You stared with wondering eyes at the sea, and when you heard my voice, you fixed them on me. It's why I had to walk away."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Emily asked, confused.

"Because it's why I came back, too," Naomi said. "I don't have answers for you any more than I did that first day, but I think I might be able to help you find them for yourself."

"I don't understand any of this, Naoms," Emily said, sighing in irritation.

"It's okay if you don't. You will eventually. We've got time."

"Naomi, that's the one thing we _don't_ have," Emily said heatedly.

Naomi uncrossed her legs and laid down, pulling Emily with her. "Don't get so upset, Ems. Just rest with me for a bit."

Emily instinctually sidled up to Naomi, placing her hand on Naomi's chest and resting her head in the space where Naomi's arm met her torso. "There's got to be something I should be doing right now," she mumbled into Naomi's side.

Naomi kissed her on the head. "There isn't anything you need to be doing except hold me for the rest of my life, which, as it turns out, won't be for very long." Emily choked back a sob. "It's okay, Emily. Just lay here and let it go."

Emily did exactly that; she clutched Naomi as tightly as she could, making a mental memory. She wanted to remember just how Naomi felt in her arms; she wanted to remember that Naomi's stomach was moving steadily up and down with breaths that had suddenly become finite; she wanted to remember that there were beads of sand sticking to the nape of her neck that glistened every time a vein pulsed. Emily fought the urge to count her heartbeats.

She focused, instead, on the good things—how good it felt to cross her leg over Naomi's; how good Naomi's fingers felt as they traced lazy strokes through her hair. Emily committed the smell of Naomi's skin to memory, a sweet, rich smell that had just the slightest after-tinge of salt. Emily studied Naomi's face and memorized the contours of her nose and brows; she burned the dips of Naomi's lips into her memory, filing them away along with the memory of how they'd felt on hers, which seemed like a suddenly and alarmingly distant event from her past. Emily watched Naomi's eyelashes as she blinked; she watched them move up and down—imagined what they'd feel like brushing against her cheek or back.

Emily closed her eyes and reached for Naomi's hand, letting her fingers remember the feel of Naomi's forever. From now on, whenever Emily touched something, Naomi would be touching it, too. She pressed her fingers gently to the soft pad of Naomi's palm, caressing it slowly and completely. Her fingertips danced along Naomi's arm, memorizing the shape of Naomi's wrist. She returned to Naomi's hand and brought it up to cup Emily's face, asking Naomi to remember her, too. Naomi stroked her hand gently across Emily's cheek, and when she brushed a tear away, a part of Emily soaked into Naomi. They were connected, making and sharing the same memories, and Emily didn't want to open her eyes for fear that she suddenly wouldn't have something to look at.

When she finally did, the sky was far brighter than she had left it; purple would give way to pink soon, and then the sun would begin to shine on a day that Emily wanted to forever remain gloomy.

Naomi's eyes were closed beside her, and Emily's heart skipped a beat. She shook Naomi by the shoulders a little harder than was necessary, but she couldn't stand the thought that maybe she'd slept through her last moments with the blonde.

"Naomi!" she shouted. "Please still be alive, please just be asleep…"

Naomi cracked open an eye and smiled lazily; Emily almost fainted from relief. "Morning, Ems. Looks beautiful today, huh?"

Tears immediately sprang to Emily's eyes. "Don't," she scolded. "How are you feeling?"

Naomi propped herself up on her elbows and rolled her eyes back in thought. "A little tired," she said. Her voice was small and feeble. "I guess it's getting to be that time."

Emily's mind went into a frenzy; she had to do something before the sun peeked over the horizon. She could still fix this; there was enough time to do something if she could only just figure out what it was…

"Ems, stop it. Look at me." Emily flicked wide, pleading, broken eyes over to Naomi. "I love you." Naomi's voice was as confident as it could be when it took such effort for her to form words. "I don't want to leave you, and I wouldn't if I didn't have to, but I don't regret a minute of the time we spent together. Because when I'm with you, I feel like I'm a better person. I feel happier—less alone. Less lonely. If I could do it all over again, I would. I just wish it didn't have to end this way. I wish you weren't so heartbroken. But I can die happy, knowing that after millions of years, I did at least one thing right. I die knowing that I'm better for having loved you."

Emily didn't even bother to clear away the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. "You can't go just like that, Naomi. I've got things to say, questions to ask…God! If we just had more time…"

Naomi inhaled a long, labored breath. "But we don't. We've just got right now."

Emily kissed Naomi softly on the lips. "I love you, too, Naoms," she whispered.

"Ems?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you here?"

Emily looked quizzically at Naomi. "To save you," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Naomi closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. "No, that's not it," she murmured, more to herself than to Emily.

Emily let out a frustrated breath and hung her head between her hands; of _course_ she was there to save Naomi. What the hell else would she be doing on a beach in the early hours of the morning if she weren't there to save Naomi? What else would she be doing in fucking America if she weren't there to sa—oh.

Oh, god. Emily picked her head up in sudden realization and screwed her eyes tightly shut. _Please hear me,_ she thought. _You have to hear me…_

_Ems?_ Effy thought back.

Emily shook her head. _No, not you. I need to talk to your grandmother._

_I am here, you silly girl_. Cruenterrex's voice was loud and mocking in her head. _I must say, this has been quite captivating to watch._

_I have a proposition for you_, Emily thought, ignoring the god's taunting words.

_You are relentless! Are you actually still trying to change my mind?_ Cruenterrex laughed snidely._ I am unwavering in my refusal to listen to any pleas._

_It's not a plea I have for you. It's a bargain._

Cruenterrex scoffed. _Surely you cannot think it is that easy._

_Do you think this is easy, what I'm doing? This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I can do it willingly and confidently because I love her. You don't understand humans, Cruenterrex, because you don't understand sacrifice. Life means nothing to you because it is not dangerous—it is not in jeopardy. But I know true love, and so I can do the hardest thing I've ever done. I know true love, and true sacrifice, and so I know true life._

It was a moment before Cruenterrex replied; when she did, her words were cold and hostile. _Arnithusia made the same request of me._

_Which is why I know you'll accept. Do you?_

_You are offering me your life for hers. _

_Yes._

_It is done._

Emily came out of her trance with a gasp; her eyes flew open and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. When she regained her composure, she chanced a glance at Naomi. The blonde didn't seem to have noticed anything. Emily's heart felt like it weighed two tons in her chest, but her head swam with long-awaited release.

"You know I'm shit with words, Ems, so just…listen to my heart, would you?" Naomi carried on feeling, oblivious to the trade that Emily had just made.

Emily didn't say anything. Instead, she laid her head on Naomi's chest and indulged her request. She listened for Naomi's heart; with every second, it beat stronger and stronger, pounding an invigorating drum against Emily's ears. Emily focused on it with all the will she had left; she felt her own heartbeats and channeled them into Naomi. She imagined Naomi's heart filling up as hers slowed down, filling up with vitality and energy. Emily smiled as the pounding in her ears grew louder. It was a steady tattoo, beating promise and life into the woman she loved. Emily closed her eyes in pride and relief.

A goofy smile spread across Emily's face. "It worked," she breathed.

"What?" Naomi blurted. "What worked?" Emily, unable to hold herself up any longer, slumped into Naomi's lap. She turned over and grinned up at Naomi, at her beautiful face. Naomi returned Emily's satisfied expression with a quizzical one of her own; suddenly her eyes widened in realization. "No, Emily," she pleaded. "Tell me you didn't."

"You deserve life," Emily said dreamily. "And you were wrong earlier, by the way. I _am_ here to save you. I've always been here to save you. I figured everything out, Naoms. I fixed you."

Naomi drew her brows down in pity. "Emily, you were supposed to live, too. You deserve life just as much as I do."

Emily shifted her head in Naomi's lap. "But now I can teach you how to use yours. You existed for a few million years, Naoms. You didn't really live them. Now you know how."

"I don't want to live if it's not with you," Naomi cried.

"Of course you do," Emily admonished. "You've got Cook and Effy, and they still need to learn how to live, too. You said it yourself, Naomi, that this was the last time we'd sit together. So just sit and play with my hair. I like it when you do that."

Emily felt a tear drop onto her head as Naomi acquiesced; she could feel Naomi's shoulders shake as the blonde sobbed. Emily simply looked forward and watched the sky. It was getting brighter with every second.

"Oh, look, Naoms!" she said, grabbing Naomi's arm in a vice. "Look at the sunrise. All the pretty colors, Naomi…"

Naomi hiccupped above her. "It's beautiful," she agreed.

"Just like you," Emily whispered. She smiled and leaned her head back against Naomi's stomach, relishing in the feel of her. The sun heated her forehead, and Emily closed her eyes, telling herself that she'd open them when it stopped being so warm.

But it never did.

* * *

**A/N: Have at them reviews, dear readers.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Playing with style a little bit here, hope it works out. Just a warning: I think this is the penultimate chapter. I'm leaning away from the idea of an epilogue, since my author's note (which I've already written) will be all kinds of sap and cheese. Start preparing.

* * *

**

Blue. Blue so deep, like the very bottom of the ocean where even the fish need to adapt to survive. Blue so deep it was almost black from the right angle.

But every now and then, a flash of white.

* * *

"_Here, Naoms. What do you think about this one?"_

_Naomi swung their hands in a swooping arc as they stopped in front of the circular, oak table. "It's just a table, Ems. They're all just tables."_

"_Yeah, but is it the right one? We need the right table."_

_Naomi surveyed it with narrow eyes. "It doesn't look sturdy enough."_

_Emily rolled her eyes and laughed, only a little frustrated. They'd been to three furniture stores already, and Naomi had turned her nose up at everything they'd seen. "Naomi, everything is sturdy enough; I promise you. We humans get by pretty well on land. You're going to have to learn this."_

"_Yeah but, are you sure stuff doesn't need to be bolted down or something?"_

"_You've been in Cook and Effy's place to know it doesn't need to be. Besides, isn't gravity technically just as strong underwater as it is on the surface?"_

"_Yes, but things are also considerably bouncier. We should get some bolts."_

_Emily laughed. "We don't need any bolts. Do you like this table?"_

"_I don't care one way or the other."_

_Emily shot Naomi a disbelieving look. "Naomi," she chided. "You have opinions about everything. Now, come on—you just got this brand new life. You get to choose how you want it to look."_

_Naomi smiled mischievously. "It looks a lot to me like a hot redhead doing naughty things to me on every surface of our house."_

_Emily cocked her eyebrow and smirked. "So get to picking the surface."_

_Naomi huffed and rolled her eyes. "I liked that black one over there," she said reluctantly, pointing to an area at the opposite side of the store._

_Emily hid a smile as she dragged them in the right direction.

* * *

_There was floating; it was connections and unity—in birds and fingertips and tiny pieces of paper. The particles of a laugh, the crinkle of a frown. Sudden bursts of emotion. Sadness and ecstasy and conviction and wrath and everything. It was every second, past and future, only there was no time. There just was, and it was light and warm.

* * *

"_What would you have done if I hadn't survived?"_

"_Naomi, don't."_

_Naomi picked a piece of lint off of Emily's sock. "Obviously I did, Ems. It's just a question. Pure fantasy."_

_Emily shifted her legs on Naomi's lap. "You mean, how would I possibly cope if your grandmother hadn't realized how much we love each other; how would I even consider moving on if she hadn't lifted the prophecy?"_

_Naomi laughed softly. "Don't be so melodramatic."_

"_I'm not."_

"_Yes, you are. It's just a question, Em."_

"_It's a silly question." Naomi playfully slapped Emily's foot. "Okay, okay." Emily inhaled a deep breath in thought. "Well, I'd stay here. I wouldn't go back to Bristol or Sam. I'd ask Katie to come move down here with me; she would need a new start just as much as I would. I'd definitely mope around for a few months. Eff would probably have to knock some sense into me."_

"_If Cook didn't try to ply you with drink and drugs first."_

_Emily couldn't help smiling. "I can't believe we're joking about this." She wiped a hand over her face._

"_Hey." Naomi pulled Emily's hand away from her face and kissed it. "It's okay, Ems. It's not real."_

_Emily smiled and leaned up to kiss Naomi, whose lips, incidentally, were very, very real.

* * *

_Tiny hairs, they were blowing…and the eyes, the eyes were always there, watching and noticing. Even through closed lids the world was beautiful.

* * *

"_Don't, Ems…argh! You don't fit that way!" Naomi laughed as Emily wriggled behind her._

"_Just because you're taller doesn't mean you get to be the big spoon all the time."_

"_No, I get to be the big spoon all the time because your knees are freakishly bony and they dig into my back." Emily smiled and began to pull away. Naomi reached around and grabbed Emily's hand, pressing it firmly against her stomach. "Don't you dare move; I'm not complaining."_

"_Yes, ma'am."

* * *

_A light, a figure. No face, just confidence. Flowing hair, flowing hair and sandals. He looked familiar, some friendly face that works at a local music store. Or maybe he runs a stand in the farmer's market. Tanned cheeks the color of cinnamon. Dark freckles, attractively placed.

Chocolate brown eyes the color of love. They burned.

* * *

"_Hello, Emily."_

_The room was bare but cozy. The floors were smooth wood; they were warm against Emily's bare soles. The couch against the wall was compact. It was situated underneath a giant window; when Emily sat on it, it sunk down appreciatively. Emily felt the sun warm the top of her head. It fed into her scalp, fueling her._

_The man in front of her was relatively short; she wouldn't have noticed him if he hadn't spoken. He had a healthy build, like someone who had spent his entire life working on a farm. Emily imagined he would be the kind of person who gave exceptional hugs. He reminded her a little of her dad._

"_Um, hi," she said. "Do I know you?"_

_The man smiled brightly. "No," he replied. "You do, however, know my granddaughter."_

"_You're Parakalus."_

"_That's me."_

"_What are you doing here?"_

"_Epithumiandra had a bit of a change of heart."_

"_Really," Emily said skeptically._

"_Well, that and you managed to foil her plans. She won't be ruling Phulaquus; I found a more-than-capable merman to take over. Some parts of the prophecy had to come true, after all. Besides, I have always been partial to monarchies over theocracies. More accountability that way."_

"_Gina was a daddy's girl, huh?"_

"_Maybe just a little."_

"_So what was this change of heart she had?"_

_Parakalus sat down next to Emily on the couch. His eyes were deep brown and friendly, flecks of gold reflecting in the sunlight. His white hair was cropped close to his face, but he had a long beard that extended almost down to his knees. It contorted into a shape like an upside-down hat when he smiled, and he smiled a lot. Every time he did, Emily imagined there was a tiny gnome doing cartwheels on his face. It made her laugh._

"_She was rather moved by that little speech you gave to Naomi. She appealed to me to talk to you. It seems you are quite the woman, Emily."_

"_Flattery will get you everywhere, Parakalus."_

"_Do you know why my granddaughter was unhappy?"_

"_Because she was doomed to die by an unfair and egregious prophecy?"_

"_Because she was waiting for you."_

_Emily smiled. "I know. I told her I was there to save her. She didn't believe me."_

"_She does now. She's been sitting on the beach for the past half an hour just holding you, but in about thirteen minutes Effy is going to walk over to her and tell her to get up."_

"_So?"_

"_She _will_ live without you, Emily. Your sacrifice was successful. Naomi is mortal now, and she can go on living with Effy and Cook."_

"_Well, that's good."_

"_But she doesn't have to."_

"_What?"_

"_You can live with her, too. If you want. You said it yourself, Emily, that life isn't precious unless it is dangerous—unless it has a limit. You put a limit on yourself. Not only that, but you did so willingly. Anything you impose upon yourself I can take away just as easily. I am pretty powerful, after all."_

"_Are you saying that my death gave me a second chance at life?"_

_Parakalus smiled widely. "Of course. What is life but the acceptance of death? It seems you're not quite done with yours yet. Unless, that is, you want to be."_

"_Naomi can never go back, can she?"_

"_No."_

"_She'll want to."_

"_She won't need to. She's got you."_

"_How many more minutes?"_

"_Nine."_

"_Can we sit here until then?"_

_Parakalus smiled and took Emily's hand in his. It was cool and soft, not at all cracked from age like she'd thought it would be. Emily tightened her grip around his fingers as he patted the back of her hand._

"_It's your life, Emily. You can do whatever you want."_


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: So. Here we are, my friends. This is the end. I would tack on some sentimental author's note right now, but I've got 3 pages of one that I'll post tomorrow. So, enjoy this last chapter. It has truly been a joy to share this with all of you. I'm completely grateful for all of your reviews and comments, and I wish I could give you more of this story. Alas, we have reached our end. It's not my fault; it's all down to these two. They're the true storytellers. So sit back and listen :)**

* * *

Salt. It was the first thing that she recognized. She couldn't remember names or places or even a lot of words—everything was just salt and hiding. It wasn't like she'd thought it would be, waking up again. She didn't open her eyes up right away. She couldn't. She knew that she had to eventually, but she didn't remember how. It was like she had to re-teach her brain how to work. Ironic, considering that her brain would be the one doing the teaching.

For now, she was content just to know how to breathe.

She could hear a voice behind her; it was raspy and stilted, with just the faintest lisp on certain words.

"Do you think we should do something?"

"Not yet," another voice chimed in. This one was low and calm, but sadness dripped off the ends of her sentences; pain rode in on periods and semicolons and lingered far past paragraphs.

"Yeah, but eventually she's going to have let go. I mean, we have to bury…" The first voice cut off abruptly, though from emotion or a harsh look she couldn't tell.

"Katie," the second voice said. "There's this thing that happens when someone dies, especially when it's someone you love with every fiber of your being. It's called grief. Let Naomi grieve for just a while longer."

"Don't act like I don't know grief," Katie hissed. "She's my fucking sister. Was…_Jesus_." There was a sniffle; she couldn't tell from whom it came. "When this is all over, I'm gonna fucking murder that blonde bitch."

"You'll have to go through me and Cook first," the second voice said without a trace of malice. "That's _my_ sister you're talking about."

"So go take care of her."

"Not yet. Naomi's got a few more minutes."

Naomi. She knew that name. Naomi and blue eyes, Naomi and dancing, Naomi and electricity. Naomi and salt. The smell of salt was stronger now; it invaded her nose, lighting up every synapse in her mind like a pinball machine when you hit the jackpot. She afforded herself the luxury of a small, internal smile (her lips couldn't remember how to move just yet) and the lights in her mind blinked brightly once more. She gradually became aware of feeling—not emotions, but actual physical sensations—only she couldn't put a picture to what she was touching. It was warm, that much she knew. Her head was resting on something soft; every now and then, it shifted ever so slightly underneath her. She wasn't able yet to mimic the action, but she could envision a pair of legs moving to appease a sense of discomfort.

"Is it over?" A new voice chimed in; this one was hoarse and gruff, a decidedly male voice. It was just as defeated as the other two, only this one was dripping with a bigger sense of guilt.

"Yes," the unnamed female answered.

"Shit," the man breathed. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked forlornly. "What are we supposed to tell JJ and Sam…?"

"Fuck Sam," Katie bitterly spat. "What am I supposed to tell my fucking _family_? 'Your lovely daughter fucked off to America, fell in love with a mermaid, and then sacrificed her life to save her.' That would go over swimmingly."

If she could just remember how to laugh, she would have chuckled at the unintentional pun.

"Emily was a big girl, Katie," the other woman said. "She knew what she was doing. You can't fault her for that."

"I don't," Katie replied. "I fault you and your fucked up family."

"Hey!" the man protested.

"No, it's okay, Cook," the second woman placated.

"Yeah, but Effy…"

"Leave it, Cook," Effy replied, firmer this time.

"I was just gonna say, if she's blaming anyone it should be me," he grumbled.

Cook's comments went unanswered. She took the silence as an opportunity to assess what she now knew, because Cook and Effy and Katie—she knew them, too. And Emily…she knew Emily. She _was_ Emily. It sounded foreign on her mind's tongue, springing awkwardly on top of her brain the same way you do when your feet hit the floor of a bouncy castle just a second too late. The name Emily was a kneecap rising quickly to meet a chin, poised and eager to smash it.

And yet she was aware that kneecap was connected to a leg, and that leg was more easily controlled. And so she kept on repeating that name until it became hers, until she settled into a hopping rhythm that afforded her maximum height, until her feet met the floor at just the right time with every jump. She repeated Emily until there was no question about who it belonged to. Because as soon as she had recognized that name, and as soon as she had kept it, as soon as she had seen it for what it was and what it meant, everything had become glaringly obvious.

It belonged to Naomi. Emily—the name, the mind, the person—belonged to Naomi. It was that simple. Once Emily realized that, everything else fell into place. How to move. How to move with Naomi. How to smile, how to breathe. How to smile and how to breathe with Naomi. How to love.

How to love with Naomi.

It wasn't hard anymore. She could open her eyes if she wanted to. She could sit up and turn around, interlace her fingers with Naomi's, look at her until her eyes forced her to blink. Walk over to Katie and Effy and Cook and wrap them up in a hug and smile and tell them it's all going to be okay. She could kiss Naomi until the sun set and then rose again, and then she could repeat it every day for the rest of her life. But it wasn't the time yet. Parakalus had told her that Effy was going to approach Naomi, and she hadn't yet. Emily knew that, and so she waited.

"Can you please go do something _now_, Effy?" Katie prompted in a small voice. "I want to get off this fucking beach."

"Sure," Effy whispered. Emily heard Effy push herself off the ground. Well, it was more like Emily felt her get up. It seemed a silly thing to notice, and it was certainly trite, but Emily felt extremely connected to every part of the beach. It wasn't like she suddenly knew the secrets of the universe or anything. She just knew the beach; she knew that Naomi was sitting with legs outstretched, tear tracks dry and ragged on her cheeks. She knew that Katie and Effy had inched closer together before Effy got up; she knew that Cook was sitting next to Katie facing the opposite direction, back to the sea as his arms rested on his knees. And so it wasn't hard to see Effy as she walked over to Naomi; she was dragging her feet, creating a trail from Katie to Naomi. The sand slipped between her toes like water might slip over rocks; it took no notice of where it was going. It just went.

Emily felt Effy touch Naomi on the shoulder; it was a hesitant touch, one that she almost flinched away from. Effy almost retracted her hand before deciding to press it firmly into Naomi's skin. Emily felt it too, and she smiled another of her mind-smiles.

"Naomi," Effy said quietly. "Naomi, it's time. You've got to get up."

"I know," Naomi said flatly.

"Right now, Naomi," Effy persisted.

"Just give me a minute," Naomi said. She expelled a hiss through her nose. "I know I have to get up, Effy. Just…let me say goodbye, okay?"

Effy nodded slowly. "Okay," she acquiesced. "But after five minutes, I'm coming back and lifting you off her. I'll get Cook to do it if I have to. Yeah?"

Naomi nodded tersely. "Yeah, I got it."

Effy walked away and Naomi began crying again; Emily felt her shoulders heave, and her fingers shook against Emily's head.

"I don't want to stop playing with your hair," Naomi admitted timidly. "I've always loved your hair—it's so red and vibrant, so full of life. I don't want to stop stroking it because if I do, then it's over. Then you're really gone, and you can't be gone. I need you with me. I don't just want the hair; I want the girl behind the hair, the one who decided to dye it the most entrancing shade of red I've ever seen in my life.

It's been an hour since you died. I think this sunset was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I didn't get to share it with you. You told me that we were worth more than goodbyes, Emily. But look where we are now. You told me that you knew I'd never kill you, and yet you're dead because of me. You said you wanted to spare me the pain of making that choice, but it never was a choice to me at all. You took away my choice. You didn't let me decide for myself just how everything was going to end. I should hate you for that, but mostly I love you because I chose to die for you, too. Sucks that you beat me to it. I wanted to be the one to give you life because you deserve it more than anyone else I know. You deserve a life with me.

But you're lying in my lap and all I can do is just hold you the way I wanted you to hold me at the end. And I don't know how to do anything else, Emily. I don't want to know how to do anything else because it won't be with you. I've seen death, and now I'm holding it, and I realize I don't want to deal with it either. I don't want to deal with you. I want to live with you; I want to love with you. You said that you could only show me life, that you couldn't give it to me, but look at what you've done. Look at how miraculous you are. You gave me your life, and I only wish I could repay the favor. You're a spectacular person, Emily, and all that's left of you right now is your hair. I love you too much, and for the life of me, I can't seem to let go."

Emily smiled a real smile this time; she felt tears slide over the edges of her lips. "I love you, too," she mumbled.

"Well, of course you do," Naomi continued; Emily knew how easy it was for them to just have a conversation. It had always been easy, and that had been the problem. It wasn't one anymore. "Of course you love me, and that's what makes everything so terrible, becau—Ems?"

"I said I love you, too." Emily turned over and smiled the brightest smile she could muster. It wasn't hard to do, give in to the happiness.

"Hey, beautiful," she said confidently. Naomi gasped. Emily laughed. Everything was funny at the moment; everything was magnificent and happy and hopeful.

"But—I don't…hi," Naomi said with a shake of her head. "Have I gone crazy?"

"No."

"Are you a hallucination?"

"Do I feel like a hallucination?"

"No. I was just checking."

"Why, do you think I'm going to disappear on you?"

"Something like that." Naomi broke down on the last word, dissolving into hysteric sobs; Emily tried to hug her but Naomi pushed her gently away. She lifted her hands, placing shaking fingers to her temples. She cried without a filter, without any shame. Emily scooted away from Naomi, trying to give her a little space. She wanted to wrap Naomi up in her arms, shelter her from the sadness. But this was Naomi's pain, not Emily's. This was something Naomi had to deal with on her own. It was the after that was forever; it was the after that meant together. Right now, Naomi was feeling the weight of the in-between.

Her whole life, Emily had always felt like there was something bigger waiting for her. It wasn't kids or the perfect family or the perfect job; Katie had been the one with the plans. Emily had always been the one with the purpose, and she'd spent all her life in Bristol trying (and failing) to find it. Emily almost laughed at the cliché her life had become—how did that saying go? 'It's always in the last place you look.' Emily hadn't been looking at all; she'd given up on it, actually. But she found Naomi anyway.

"I felt you die," Naomi murmured. Emily finally looked at her; Naomi had her hands pressed firmly against her face, covering her eyes and mouth. Her voice was muffled, echoing with a hint of shame from beneath her fingers.

"I know," Emily said.

"I literally felt your heart stop."

"I know."

"What if it happens again?" Naomi whispered.

Emily shifted so that she was sitting face-to-face with Naomi. "It will," she said simply. "But not for a very, very long time." Emily reached out and gently pried Naomi's right hand from her face. She relocated it to her chest, pressing it firmly above her heart. Naomi dropped her other hand as Emily watched; though she kept her eyes closed, Emily could tell that Naomi was calming down. Her brows eased out of tightly-constricted worry; her cheeks relaxed and her jaw fell slack. "Do you feel that?" Emily asked softly.

"Yes." Naomi opened her eyes and fixed them unwaveringly on Emily. Emily felt her breath hitch at the serenity she saw in them.

"So, you see? I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

Naomi shook her head and wiped her face dry. "I don't understand, Emily. How is this even possible?"

Emily smirked. "Your grandfather's a god, remember? That sort of gives him license to do just about anything."

"Yeah, but—"

"Naoms, we've got ages to talk about that. We don't need to start right now."

"Just one more question."

"What?"

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

Emily smiled. "Had to wait for you to stop crying, didn't I?" Emily leaned forward and pressed her lips to Naomi's, smiling at the feel of what she'd almost lost forever. She reacquainted herself with Naomi, fingers meeting stomach, tongues meeting teeth. Naomi kissed back greedily, molding herself to every part of Emily. It was like Emily was coming home.

This was what she'd been looking for.

Naomi pulled away and rested her forehead against Emily's, cupping her face, peppering soft kisses as she wiped away Emily's tears. A piece of hair rested on Emily's mouth; it stuck to Naomi's lips and tugged at Emily's scalp when they broke from their kisses. Emily and Naomi both laughed; it was only right that that was the first thing they did together.

"Pretty fucked up lives we lead, eh?" Naomi chuckled.

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "But they're ours."

Naomi looked nervously at Emily; this time, her eyes were the ones searching for answers. "You promise you're not going anywhere this time?"

Emily winced playfully. "Sorry, babe. Looks like you're stuck with me for good."

Naomi finally smiled.

The sun was beautiful.


	23. Author's Note

**A/N: It's an author's note to my author's note? THE MIND, IT BOGGLES. Anyway, it's my birthday today, and I thought it would be nice to give _you guys_ the gift! Of course, it's the gift of an overly informative and altogether unnecessarily long explanation. So this is it, kids. This is the true end of _Swan Song._ It's been a swell ride.**

* * *

Whenever other people's stories end, I look for a sense of closure. I don't need every plot point to wrap up; I just want to know that there's a good chance things are going to end up okay. I need to know that my hope is justified. When it comes to _my_ stories, I tend toward the cheesy end of the spectrum. I want people to know every detail. I want to tell them exactly what happens so they know if things are okay or not. What can I say; I really, really like to talk.

I've tried to sort of hedge my bets with this ending. The problem was that, for me, the closure came way before the last chapter. This story was always a gamble. It was always a risk because it was so different from anything I've ever written, fan fiction or not. Let me tell you a story.

The idea for this story was less concrete than you might think. One day in October, I was sitting at my desk listening to my music on shuffle. I think I had just gotten done watching a _Skins_ episode or reading a story or something, but I was completely in the Naomily mindset. And then this song came on—"Swan Song," by A Fine Frenzy, to be exact—and something snapped a switch in my mind. There were three lines that stuck out to me:

1) I can't help it, loves you like a starfish loves the salty water / Like a selfish daughter

2) Pawning off my treasure, the envy of an heiress

3) I am dying, could you touch me again?

That was it. The story, at its core, is those three lines. I played them on a loop for about a day before I realized that I had to do something with them. I had to make them into more than words in my head. I went home and looked up swan songs; I researched everything I could about swans and their characteristics—how they behaved, what kind of sounds they made, what kind of things they were associated with and what they represented to various cultures. I found the text of Tennyson's poem "The Dying Swan" and analyzed the hell out of it (English major—can't help it); I drew things. I spent days learning what various Greek and Latin roots meant so I could craft names. I researched the conventions of myths in general and studied the structure of specific myths from a lot of different cultures. I did all of this and then I went home, opened up my notebook, and said, "Okay. Now what?"

Because it seemed like such a crazy idea, turning Naomi into a sea god with a death wish. It seemed so out of the realm of possibility, like it was something no one would ever want to read. I imagined people reading each chapter and shaking their heads. Maybe there would even be some bread pointing. I was really, really unsure of this story—not only of how it would be perceived, but also if I could execute it in words the way it played out in my head. I was worried that my words wouldn't be vivid enough and I would do a disservice to the potential I was sure it had.

But I wrote it anyway because I had to get it out of my system, and I don't know if I can ever tell you how completely blown away I was by the response. I'm still a little baffled by the interest I seem to have generated. This story has gone through so many revisions; I've chucked a lot of plans and taken it in directions that I didn't ever expect to. One of the first notes I made when I was tearing "The Dying Swan" to shreds was, "Whose swan song am I writing?" I was convinced for so long that it was Naomi's. I made it clear in the story that it was Naomi's; she was always the one in danger of dying. But then she didn't. Emily did, and it was absolutely right. This wouldn't be the same story if neither of them died—because one of them had to—but it also wouldn't be the same story if Naomi died.

There's a fable from Aesop that tells of a swan who gets mixed up with a bunch of geese. He's a mute swan, and so he can't squawk and tell the farmer that he's not a goose. The farmer decides to eat him for dinner because he's bigger than any of the geese, and the swan resigns himself to death and begins to sing one last song. The farmer recognizes that the swan is not a goose, and he is saved. Ironically, the swan song is the very thing that spares his life. In my mind, Emily is the swan and Naomi is the goose, only Emily saved both of them. And nobody got eaten. (There was a point in there, I swear.)

I think what I'm trying to say is this story wasn't at all what I expected it to be, and I'm very grateful for that. I may have been the one to form letters into words and words into sentences, but there were a lot of minds that went into this story. I guess it's time for the obligatory (but no less sincere) shout-outs of gratitude and appreciation.

First, **vangoghgurrl**: This story would not be what it is without your help. You keep asking why I consult you about my story when you don't consider yourself to be a writer (I won't debate that now; I'm in a nice mood)—it's because you're such a good reader. It's because I know you care about what happens. It's because you're smart and your opinion matters because it makes my writing better. I know I've flailed and pestered you for your thoughts more times than I can count, but I don't know if I've ever thanked you. So let me take this opportunity to thank you from the bottom of my heart, because you truly make a difference.

**Lazy_boo**: I wish you had followed this story from the very beginning. I don't mean that in a "God, you fail for not doing so" way. I just know that if you had, the story would have been more solid. To be honest, your reviews always intimidated me a little bit because I think you read a story like I do: with a very critical eye. You point out errors and incongruities, but then you also point out the little parts I loved writing that I hoped someone would notice. I appreciate both immensely.

**Warriormari**: Squishy. If ever I needed enthusiasm—and I did in the early stages—you were the one to give it to me unfailingly. You _have _been here since the beginning, and I couldn't be more grateful for that. I forgive you for failing at our challenge because your reviews always made me smile the most.

**ImagineAlex**: This doesn't really have anything to do with "Swan Song." I want to thank you for writing "Back to Front." I can't tell you how many times I've left you one of my rambling reviews and then immediately gone to write a chapter of my own because my brain was so invigorated.

**DarthCaiter**: Doppels, I still feel really bad that I spoiled you about the entire story before I finished it (even if you wanted me to), but I needed it. I needed that massive Skype conversation to really close out the story. Your brain is _not_ a fail; in fact, it has proved very crucial to ending the story on the right note.

To everyone on Twitter, whether or not you're even reading this story, you guys are truly awesome. Sometimes I wonder where I would be as a writer without the constant feedback and inspiration. I would probably still be writing crappy _Law and Order: SVU_ stories and agonizing internally. Now I only do one of those things. (Three guesses which one).

I'm still flabbergasted by the fact that this crazy idea of mine garnered over 200 reviews. If I could go back and make changes to this story, I would. I would make massive changes. I would write more of the myths and I would write them more consistently. I would rewrite a lot of the earlier chapters, because I think there's a very noticeable shift in quality about halfway through. I would revise even some of the later chapters. There's always something more I can perfect.

But I wouldn't change anything about the process this story has been, both in terms of writing and what it has meant for me. It might sound extreme, but this story has changed my life. It has changed my writing style, made it better. The people I've met have helped me figure out that I need to write for the rest of my life. And so this is a bittersweet ending, because both the story and my fan fiction career have come to close. Well, the latter has at least been put on an indefinite hiatus. If you hadn't gathered from this massive and overly informative author's note, this was truly a labor of love. I put a lot of me into this story, and now I have a new, original idea into which to put the next part of me. I can't focus on two stories at the same time, so for now, fan fiction has been put on the back burner.

And so maybe I have written my own swan song; maybe this was my final hurrah before I disappeared. Even if it isn't, I walk away from this story with a giant sense of closure. I was skeptical of this story at the beginning; I was unsure and dubious and every other uncertain adjective you can think of. I'm not now. I walk away from this story with a smile. This story is my child playing a basketball game; it's just scored the winning point at the buzzer, and I'm up in the stands frantically grabbing at the guy next to me, laughing and saying, "That's my kid! That's my kid!" I have each and every person who has read this story and reviewed it to thank for that.

I walk away from this story with a sense of finality and confidence. I walk away from this story with a sense of pride.


End file.
